


control

by tagteamme



Series: so glad we’re acquainted [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (mild), Bad Science, Big alien monsters, Big dick zone, Edging, Hand Kink, Improper use of Shiro's hand, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Stress Relief, Voyeurism, action of various types, aliens are background, authority kink, keith and shiro playing sex chicken is foreground, the likes of which will be determined as we go, the same nonsense as before:, this story pretends to have plot but it does not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-01-06 13:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18389351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/pseuds/tagteamme
Summary: Keith puts forth a challenge. Shiro takes it up out of penance— and out of the need to make Keith give in."I kind of like that you can’t keep your hands off me to the point where we get in trouble.”There’s a small uptick in Keith’s voice, like he’s unsure if what he’s saying is completely true. It is— being able to touch Keith is one of the greater privileges in Shiro’s life, one that he uses thoroughly. When he doesn’t say anything, Keith’s face settles into something smug that picks at a thread in Shiro.“Mm,” Shiro nips at the finger that’s trying to silence him. “Who says I can’t?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spiritual sequel to 'Complacent' which you don't have to read to understand this whatsoever. Just know the recurring theme is that they're both little shits

 When it comes to Keith, it’s hard for Shiro to see him struggle and not do anything about it, no matter how large or small said struggle is. That’s why he’s currently standing in a fairly empty lobby outside one of the larger conference rooms of the Garrison where, according to the schedule he had Veronica forward him,  Keith’s in one of his back-to-back meetings for the day and it’s due to break soon. Shiro has places to be as well but he’s got a lot more leeway, part because of his seniority and part because technically,  _he_  isn’t the one that’s been grounded.

They’d be out scavenging just past the Kuiper belt with the other paladins now if Keith hadn’t thoroughly argued with Iverson and an extremely important Polluxian diplomat about the importance of where they were allocating Team Voltron’s resources. The Polluxian diplomat says there’s a rare mineral found on a handful of asteroids in the belt that is absolutely _imperative_ to mine if Earth and Voltron want to make a leap in their wormholing technology. The Polluxians have already implemented it on a few of their larger transport ships, and Earth’s lucky enough to be near a somewhat viable source. It’s rarer and more potent than scaultrite— but Keith thinks they’re looking for fool’s gold.

And he would know, with the amount of clean up work that he and Shiro and the rest of the team had to carry out throughout their solar system. But the others thought it would be interesting enough to give it a go, despite the fact that Keith was suspicious about the veracity of the Polluxian’s claims. To be fair, the first time Keith had brought up a valid question, the Polluxian had said something less than kind about the foresight of a half-Galra. Keith had no problem delivering an equally cutting rebuttal that devolved into a shouting match.

Because some of the top brass tends to forget that Keith’s no longer a scrappy cadet but a full-grown leader of a powerful and terrifyingly sentient robot, he was told in brisk terms that they’d have better use of him here than out half-heartedly leading his team. The orders extended to Shiro as well, because he had stood in solidarity with Keith; they were a little nicer though, and they haven’t put him into a mix of behavioural reform and diplomatic training disguised as general meetings like they have for Keith.

Keith’s been steaming and tense since the team flew out yesterday afternoon, and having to sit through one excruciatingly boring presentation after another has made him visibly itchy. Despite Shiro’s best attempts to cheer him up, Keith had been visibly downcast when he left their quarters and has barely replied to any of Shiro’s messages.  Shiro knows that if he was in Keith’s position, he’d feel equally sour as well. So, here he is, waiting patiently as the seconds tick down.

Right as the small clock in the corner of his datapad ticks into the new minute, the doors to the conference room slides open. People file out, some glassy-eyed and some engaged in enthusiastic conversation. Shiro says hello to a few people walking by, but anyone who wants to linger for conversation gets turned away politely. He spots a familiar mop of dark hair shortly and raises a hand to grab his attention. It takes Keith a moment to process who’s waving to him, but his face visibly brightens when he registers it’s Shiro.

“How’s your day going?” Shiro asks as Keith approaches, and Keith shakes his head.

“I don’t want to think about it,” Keith replies, stopping just short of Shiro. He looks like he wants to collapse into Shiro, and Shiro’s got a burning desire to envelope him in a hug but if they do that, they’ll be standing in the hall till it’s time for Keith to go back.

Last time Keith had been experiencing a low, Shiro had stolen a hefty amount of dinner dessert from the kitchen and holed them up in their quarters for the rest of the day. The time before, he had convinced Keith to play hooky on physical training so that they could find a clunky old hoverbike and take it out into the canyons. Keith’s going to get into shit if he skips out on anything he’s due for today, so Shiro can’t do something as dramatic before. But he’s hoping that whatever he’s got planned for the fifteen minutes of break allotted is good enough that Keith will find the rest of the day more tolerable. If Keith decides to go along with it.

“Let me make it better?” Shiro asks, reaching forward to hook his index finger around Keith’s. Keith gives him a faint smile, and Shiro chalks it up as a small victory.  


* * *

 

“I don’t think there’s a lot of time left,” Keith says. Or attempts to say. Shiro’s not sure because he’s too busy concentrating on swallowing around Keith, nose mashing against Keith’s lower abdomen as he takes him all the way in.

“Mm?” Shiro hums in question, hollowing his cheeks as he draws back as slow as he humanly can. Keith’s fingers twist harder in his hair and when Shiro drops him out of his mouth fully, he can feel Keith trying to tug him back. “What’d you say?”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Keith half-hisses, and Shiro shrugs and gives him an innocent look.

“I’m not stopping you from finishing,” Shiro replies, enjoying the hoarse quality his voice has taken down. Keith’s got something to say about that undoubtedly, but Shiro doesn’t bother listening.

Instead, he circles a hand around him and squeezes as he gives him a kitten lick and takes him into his mouth halfway. It’s only a small fraction of what Shiro wants to do to him. But fifteen minutes doesn’t allow for much, especially when the first three of those minutes were spent dragging Keith down a series of halls till they reached an abandoned supply closet. It might be crass but it’s currently doing the job that Shiro needs it to. 

He revels in the way that Keith’s thigh shudders under his Altean hand, revels in the quietness of Keith trying to stifle any sounds he makes. He bobs his head and Keith breaks, inhaling sharply and pulling on his hair so hard that the corner of Shiro’s eyes grow damp. Shiro gives an approving hum around him at this, and slides his hand up from Keith’s thigh to his hip before tugging Keith’s pants down further.

He rests his fingers on Keith’s lower back for a brief moment before dipping them downwards. He thinks about tonight, and thinks that he wants to fuck Keith till he’s boneless and sated and has forgotten other people are annoyed with him. Shiro wants to work Keith until all Keith’s aware of is the love Shiro has for him.

Keith bites down on his own sleeve as he comes and Shiro holds onto him, keeping him planted so that this doesn’t get any messier than it already is. Shiro takes it all, barely holding back his own moan as Keith finally lets go of his hair. Shiro swirls his tongue around once more and Keith makes an overstimulated noise before grabbing the shoulders of Shiro’s dishevelled jacket. He hauls Shiro up onto his feet and into a fierce kiss, not waiting for Shiro to wipe his mouth.

Shiro lets Keith cling onto him like a limpet while they kiss, and runs a hand through Keith’s hair briefly before he gets to work. He’s been acutely aware of how much time they’ve taken up and while Keith pushes his tongue forward, Shiro gets to work in tucking him in and zipping up his pants. Keith’s making small noises that Shiro relishes in as he buttons Keith’s jacket with deft fingers, knowing he’s the only one that can reduce Keith to this. The furrow in Keith’s brow has long lost its tension and Shiro draws back just so that he can get a proper look at Keith’s flushed face.

“Feeling better?” Shiro asks, and Keith rolls his eyes. Keith is the love of Shiro’s life in an immeasurable way, but he’s also so breathtakingly beautiful that sometimes, that’s all that Shiro can concentrate on.

Shiro kisses up the thick line of Keith’s scar as he finishes straightening out his jacket, and Keith tugs him into another deep kiss again. He curls and uncurls his hands against Shiro’s hips, like he’s unsure what to do with them. Eventually he settles for looping his arms around Shiro’s waist and pulling him even closer.

“Thank you,” Keith murmurs against Shiro’s lips,  and presses one last kiss to the corner of Shiro’s mouth. “But I really need to go.”

“They won’t miss you,” Shiro says as if Keith mouthing off to alien diplomats wasn’t the reason they’re stuck on Earth in the first place. Keith snorts and gently pushes Shiro away before patting down his own hair and running his fingers through it. He’s still a little more on the dishevelled side but he looks a lot happier, and that’s all that matters to Shiro. He watches Keith stride towards the door and barely resists the temptation to tug him back towards him.

“I think I’m already a couple of minutes over,” Keith says as he turns the doorknob of the utility closet they snuck into. “I won’t be surprised if-”

Keith stops dead in his tracks as the light from the empty hallway washes in.

Well.

It was _supposed_ to be empty.

 

* * *

 

Objectively, Shiro feels utterly and completely terrible.

He doesn’t see Keith for the rest of the day, and has a sour feeling sitting at the pit of his stomach the entire time. He runs through conditioning for the junior cadets, all while wearing an unsettled expression and barking orders a lot harsher than he normally does. Matt is running the class alongside him but gives him a wide berth, clearly aware that Shiro’s agitated at himself and not wanting to ask.

Shiro feels like an idiot for the amount of trouble Keith’s currently in. He knows he couldn’t have prevented the fact that the Polluxian diplomat would be taking a stroll to stretch their legs with a general through the exact hall that Shiro and Keith were in, a hall that last saw regular human activity when it was built. Shiro also thinks that the diplomat had been perhaps overdramatic in how offensive it had been to see a rumpled Keith and Shiro stumble out of a utility closet. The diplomat’s been trying to pick a fight with Keith over any and everything since Keith had vetoed their plan, and this incident was just more fuel.

Keith pointed out that it appeared the diplomat and general were as late to the meeting as he was, and _that_ had earned him such an earful that Shiro’s presence had been completely forgotten. Keith had been as red as a tomato by the end of it and a small congregation of passing-by cadets had formed to watch the argument. Shiro had tried to intervene but he realized belatedly that he forgot to do up his own jacket, and that had only made things worse.

By the end of it, Keith had been fuming and embarrassed and had left without a word to anyone, including Shiro. Retrospectively, Shiro really should have just stolen a dessert from the kitchen again and taken Keith out onto one of the Garrison rooftops for fresh air.

He thinks about that as he sits in the mess hall, pushing around now-cold mashed potatoes. There’s a seat empty beside him and his tablemates are chattering away, but Keith’s nowhere to be seen. He hasn’t messaged Shiro for the rest of the day, and Shiro doesn’t know if it’s because he’s busy or because he’s mad. Shiro wouldn’t blame him if he’s gone for a ride to one of the cliff faces with Kosmo instead, because Keith’s current situation would be suffocating for anyone.

Despite the fact that the last time he tried he just made things worse, Shiro still wants to find a way to make it up to Keith. He thinks he can maybe throw his weight around and get them a spontaneous day off, but currently Shiro thinks he’s as in the doghouse with the Garrison as Keith is. And also in the dog house with Keith, which is significantly worse. Shiro mashes a pea with the side of his fork and thinks longingly of the missions they run on their own, and how they can fool around in the small Garrison cruisers without anyone bothering them. Being confined to Earth sucks for many reasons, but his monkey brain’s currently underlining this as the most prominent one.

A tray clatters beside him and Shiro turns to see Keith drop down into the seat he saved. He looks more tired than he has all week, and the frown on his face looks permanently set. It’s worse than it had been when Shiro first saw him come out of the meeting room, and Shiro feels a sharp pang of guilt.

“I only have ten minutes,” Keith says in lieu of a greeting. He immediately shoves a large spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. The dark storm clouds hovering over his head can’t make themselves any more evident.

“When are they letting you off for the day?” Shiro asks, and Keith shakes his head before swallowing.

“Late in the evening,” Keith grunts. “I have a ‘short’ disciplinary brief after meal.”

Shiro winces at this— Keith’s day is far from over. He places a hand on Keith’s thigh and Keith doesn’t react, focused on shovelling as much food before he has to go.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says sincerely. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. You just looked really worn down.”

“Thanks,” Keith says dryly, and Shiro can tell that he’s not quite out of hot water with him so he tries to switch tracks.

“Here,” Shiro takes his fork and spoon and scoops up a slice of meatloaf off his own tray.  The meatloaf at the Garrison is surprisingly way more delicious than it has any right to be, and Shiro and Keith pull rank to get extras whenever they can. “They were in short stock today so I made sure to get you one.”

He drops it onto Keith’s tray with a soft _splat_ , and can see the corners of Keith’s mouth twitch the slightest amount. It’s enough encouragement for Shiro to try and give Keith an inviting look; Keith gives him a flat one in turn before jabbing his fork through it and picking up the entire slab of meat. He takes a giant bite out of it and Shiro can see the visible effort that Keith puts in to not looking like he’s enjoying it. There’s a loud beeping sound right before Keith takes a second bite, and lets out a world-weary sigh.

“Shit,” he says, patting his jacket. He pulls out the tiny orange datapad he carries around, and it’s got a blinking green message on it. “Gotta go.”

“Wait-” Shiro starts, but Keith pushes back his chair. His shoulders are quickly going stiff as he stands up and Shiro can tell that maybe another interjection from him would not be welcome.

“I’ll bring your food back to our place,” Shiro resigns himself to saying, and Keith shoots him a thankful look. He presses his lips together but says nothing more, instead giving a short wave and turning on his heel. Shiro watches as he strides purposefully towards the exit and doesn’t have high hopes for the mood Keith will be in when he eventually comes home.

 

* * *

 

 

His hunch isn’t too off the mark. Keith comes back a lot later than would be warranted for a short debriefing. Shiro’s in the shower when Keith comes back to their quarters, so he first sees him sitting on their couch with a plate of the food that Shiro had saved him. He looks mentally exhausted and the same guilt from before chews at Shiro’s gut.

“Hey babe,” Shiro approaches Keith from behind, and places a brief kiss to the top of his head. Keith doesn’t hum, doesn’t react, just aimlessly chews, and Shiro can tell that whatever debrief he had to do has completely sucked the soul out of him. “Want company?”

“You should go to bed,” Keith shakes his head. It’s less of a suggestion and more of a request to be left alone. “I have to go clean up anyways.”

Even though he just finished one, Shiro wants to offer to step into the shower with Keith so that he can work out some of the tension that’s made itself so evident in Keith’s neck and shoulders. It’d be a bad idea though and Shiro can tell as much from the way Keith’s holding himself just a millimeter off the couch.

Shiro doesn’t get a chance to apologize till later, when Keith slides into their bed smelling like their shared soap. Shiro puts aside the datapad he had been scrolling through, and Keith gives the verbal _lights off_ command for the room. They’re bathed in a green glow and Keith shuffles till he’s on his side, turned away from Shiro. The debrief must have been absolutely brutal and Shiro thinks by the end of this week, he’s going to blow up at the Polluxians as well.

He pushes himself closer to Keith. Keith doesn’t turn around, but he doesn’t move away either so Shiro takes this as his chance.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says earnestly to the tense wall of Keith’s back, unsure of whether or not to touch. He decides to go with something safe and lands his hand on Keith’s hip. “I’m really sorry babe. It’s my fault you got into trouble.”

Shiro gives Keith a soft brief squeeze, but Keith says nothing. It’s only when Shiro’s about to retract his hand that Keith finally turns where he’s lying and gives Shiro a baleful look.

“I hate that diplomat,” Keith says with no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice. “The debriefing was so bad. They said I violated some Polluxian social code and wanted an apology. I looked it up after and there’s no such thing. And,” Keith closes his eyes and sighs through his nose before speaking again. “They started questioning me in general. It’s like they’re looking for any tiny hole to poke through and find fault with me and no one else is seeing it.”

Or they’re turning a blind eye to it, because the Polluxians have brought vast quantities of quintessence to Earth with them. They have had their own fleets scour through the galaxy looking for torn up and forgotten Galra cruisers from the war and have amassed quite the collection of tech and raw materials. Being less inclined to fight, they’ve brought it to Earth to negotiate with and that’s why Keith’s been disciplined for something that he’d normally just get an exasperated look for.

“There aren’t any faults with you,” Shiro says honestly and Keith makes a derisive noise. “But I’m still sorry that I got you in trouble. If I knew that’s what was gonna happen I would have done something else.”

“Like what?” Keith asks, and Shiro shrugs.

“Probably not blow you in a supply closet,” he says and that makes Keith give his first genuine laugh of the day. He scoots closer to Shiro and Shiro gets only one startled look in before Keith’s leaning up to kiss him.

Shiro has no hesitation in acquiescing, letting Keith move his slightly chapped lips against Shiro’s. It’s chaste till it’s not, but Shiro doesn’t push. He lets Keith set the pace, only too happy to feel him pressed against Shiro after a long day. A calloused palm slides under Shiro’s tank top, skittering fingers over his side as Keith draws himself nearer. Faster than Shiro anticipated, Keith shifts his weight and tugs. Shiro easily follows the direction of it and rolls on top of Keith. He tries to prop himself up and keep the weight off, but Keith hooks a leg around him and pulls him down.

Keith deepens the kiss with little finesse and Shiro finds no reason to protest it. Their teeth click together a few times and Keith’s lips turn bruising and clumsy. But Shiro lets him bleed his stress out through the kiss and gives Keith whatever he wants to take. He can feel Keith stretch under him, half in desire and half in want of getting rid of some of the rigidity in his body. Shiro can’t quite gauge the extent of what Keith wants but he goes with it, letting Keith direct them as they lazily make out.

Keith breaks off the kiss eventually and tips his chin back, baring his neck in a clear invitation. Shiro licks his lips and presses a wet trail along the underside of Keith’s jaw, brushing against his adam’s apple. He reaches up to kiss Keith right under his ear, biting the skin lightly in a way that he knows will make Keith purr. Keith murmurs something and Shiro doesn’t catch it, too wrapped up in stroking his hand up under Keith’s shirt, feeling the ridges of his ribcage.

“What’d you say, babe?” Shiro asks as he slides his right hand under Keith’s lower back. Keith shifts his head enough so that they’re eye to eye again and presses a brief kiss to the corner of Shiro’s mouth before he drops his head back down. Shiro tries to follow but a finger stops him, pushing against his lips as Keith gives him a small smile.

“It’s okay,” Keith replies, looking up at Shiro. “I liked it.”

“Getting a disciplinary brief?” Shiro half-jokes, and immediately corrects himself when he sees a stormy look flash across Keith’s face. “Or me blowing you in a dusty closet?”

“That brief was maybe the most excruciating thing I’ve had to do this week,” Keith says flatly before he digs his heel into Shiro’s back and brings him even closer. “But I kind of like that you can’t keep your hands off me to the point where we get in trouble.”

There’s a small uptick in Keith’s voice, like he’s unsure if what he’s saying is completely true. It is— being able to touch Keith is one of the greater privileges in Shiro’s life, one that he uses thoroughly. When he doesn’t say anything, Keith’s face settles into something smug that picks at a thread in Shiro.

“Mm,” Shiro nips at the finger that’s trying to silence him. “Who says I can’t?”

He punctuates this by dragging his hand down Keith’s side till he’s plucking at the waistband of Keith’s boxers.

“Me,” Keith replies simply. “You getting me in trouble because you have no self control.”

Keith’s gearing towards something. That much is easy to tell by the look on his face. He’s never been subtle about when he’s dangling something in front of Shiro’s face; Shiro just has to find out what it is.

“I have a lot of self-control,” It’s not a complete lie. When it comes to touching Keith, Shiro tries not to let all his enthusiasm pour out all at once, lest he mauls his man like an animal. “I was just trying to cheer you up.”

“Whatever you say,” Keith’s voice is dropping in it’s tone rapidly, and Shiro has to pretend he can’t see Keith trying to lay out a trap. “Sir.”

“That’s correct,” Shiro says firmly and Keith shakes his head.

“Every time I’m stressed or upset, you stick your hand in my pants,” Keith points out and Shiro gives a short laugh at the crassness.

“I can stop if you’d like,” Shiro says sweetly, and Keith looks like he’s about to pounce.

“Lot easier said than done for you,” Keith replies dryly. “You’re not the one who got into deep shit because of it.”

There’s no bite to his tone this time, no edge or irritation or anger. So Shiro raises an eyebrow, taking the bait that Keith’s made no effort to hide. “And how do you want me to make it up to you?”

Keith bites his lower lip in contemplation and Shiro’s immediately drawn to the action. It makes Keith break out into a grin, and he pushes up so that he can whisper into Shiro’s ear. Keith’s voice is warm, honey-sweet and just rough enough around the edges that Shiro feels some sort of thrill run up his spine as Keith draws out his request. Keith drops back down and looks up at Shiro, the slightest hint of challenge on his face.

“You want that?” Shiro asks, and Keith nods. “For how long?”

“Maybe,” Keith says, shrugging. “Just for a few days.”

The _till you lose_ is strongly implied in the undercurrent of Keith’s voice. Keith knows Shiro can’t resist a challenge, and knows this specific one is going to get Shiro twisted in all sorts of ways. Shiro’s done it to him before too, but it was more of a command then than anything. This is different because—

“If it’s too difficult a task I’d understand, sir,” Keith says, voice as saccharine as possible. It sounds like he’s mocking Shiro, so Shiro gives him as unimpressed a look as possible.

“Difficult for who?” he asks, raising both his eyebrows.

“You,” Keith says plainly. “I can still do whatever I want.”

“I think you’re severely underestimating me,” Shiro says in an amused voice, despite well knowing that if he goes through with this, Keith’s going to do everything in his power to make it torture for Shiro.

“I think you definitely won’t last,” Keith smiles sweetly, and being a simple man, it’s all Shiro needs to be convinced to give in. If anything, it’ll give Keith some sort of reprieve from the hellscape that is this week. And Shiro’s nothing if not there to take care of Keith.

“Fine,” Shiro says. “Only because I know you’ll be asking me to end it early.”

“Will I?” Keith scoffs at this, and Shiro pinches his side. “What makes you think that? I still get to get off.”

Shiro’s being cocky without any basis, but he’ll think of something. If this will make Keith feel better for the duration of their grounding then Shiro’s on board, but he’s not going to sit through this without trying his own tricks. He’s good at a lot of things but his ability to take Keith’s reticence apart and play him beautifully  in private is one that he’s proud of.

“Does this start right now or tomorrow?” Shiro asks innocently. Keith snorts and shoves him off and Shiro finds himself on his back fast. Before he can do anything, Keith’s clambering on top of him and pushing his sleeping shirt up.

“Tomorrow,” Keith grunts and grabs the hemline of his own sleeping shirt, pulling it up and off his head. Shiro doesn’t bother hiding the self-satisfied look on his face and Keith’s brow pinches. “This doesn’t count.”

Shiro reaches forward to palm at Keith’s front and is pleased in the way that Keith immediately presses forward like he can’t help it.

“Whatever you say,” Shiro replies easily and Keith gives him a dark look. Shiro’s got the impending feeling that he’s in for it but with Keith, he’s more than happy to rise to the challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience everyone! I still live and breathe sheith in my free time, I just don't have a lot of free time atm ;_;

Shiro’s not sure if it’s his own confidence in his ability to take Keith apart till he’s a boneless mess, or if it’s competitive streak that has him thinking he’s going to have an easy win. It might be a bit of both but Shiro thinks anyone would have a hard time not being cocky when they’ve got the most beautiful man in the universe draped across their lap, head tipped back and saying their name in a harsh whisper. Especially when the man in question has been acting cocky all day, like his self-control won’t crumble fast under Shiro’s hands.

It’s the end of the first day of their little game and in true fashion, Keith’s tried his best to chip away at Shiro in the few moments they had together throughout the day. They haven’t gotten to see each other much but Keith’s made the most of when they have. Keith’s flirting is clumsy at best, but his ability to grab Shiro’s thigh at just the right place while they sit at the canteen table is second to none.

Shiro runs his prosthetic hand up the span of Keith’s chest, slow enough against the warm skin that Keith’s melting further into him. His back is a solid line against Shiro’s chest, and they’re comfortably locked away in the privacy of their own quarters. Keith’s shirt is rucked up while his boxers hang off from an ankle, and he’s got one arm slung back around Shiro’s neck. The other grips Shiro’s wrist as if Keith has _any_ chance of guiding him. Shiro’s propped up against their headboard, their sheets long tossed aside, and he works hard on tamping down the smug feeling bubbling in him right now.

“I got you,” he mouths more than says against the crook of Keith’s shoulder.

Keith answers with a small noise and Shiro twists his hand again from where it’s wrapped around Keith, the pressure barely there. Keith tries to give a desperate thrust into Shiro’s hands in a plea for more and when Shiro doesn’t give it to him, he shifts in Shiro’s lap. The friction is calculated and it’s enough to elicit a soft grunt from Shiro, but it’s not what Shiro needs. This isn’t enough to justify giving in. Shiro doesn’t think Keith’s going to throw in the towel this early either but he rocks forward anyways, letting Keith know he’s half-hard.

Slow and lazy, Shiro squeezes and drags his hand down, stroking the tip with a feather-light touch which gets Keith squirming. His prosthetic floats up and cups Keith’s chin, turning his head enough for Shiro to capture him in a languid kiss. It mirrors the same one Keith had given him when he had spotted Shiro in the hall with a few members of his crew, and had pulled him aside to ask him something important.

That something important had been to pull Shiro into a dead-end hallway and pin him against the wall. Shiro had been amused by the way Keith tried to exaggerate the way he said _Admiral_ earlier this morning, but it didn’t hold water to the way Keith had wedged a thigh in between Shiro’s legs and kissed him slow and teasing. He had barely parted his lips, all while pressing his thigh upwards till Shiro was swearing and panting his name.

And then he had let him go, telling Shiro he was needed somewhere else. Unless, of course, Shiro wanted to finish up. Keith had said it with enough self-approval that it had sobered Shiro enough to tell him no, he was fine, and that he’d see him at dinner in the most unaffected tone possible.

Keith had faltered a little, most likely expecting more resistance. But Shiro’s long trained himself to force a casual tone that belies the fact that he wants to take Keith raw and messy against the closest surface, vertical or horizontal. Keith made up for it though, by crawling onto Shiro’s lap with demands as soon as he had come out of the shower. Shiro’s more than happy to take care of Keith, even though he knows they aren’t ending this tonight.

(He’s going to try still, because it’s not a hard-won victory if he doesn’t).

Shiro lets go of him with his other hand completely. He starts to draw circles against Keith’s inner thighs instead, close to the junction of his legs but never touching. It drives Keith mad, Shiro knows, having him covering close enough for Keith to feel the heat of it but not the pressure.

“What are you doing?” Keith breathes against Shiro’s lips, the edges around his voice rougher than usual. Shiro squeezes Keith’s thigh in response, feels Keith’s legs fall further apart for him. Shiro wants to take him by the hips and grind Keith back on his lap, but he also does not want to show any signs of breaking.

“What do you want me to do?” Shiro asks, swiping his tongue over Keith’s bottom lip. Keith tries to chase it and Shiro grins— until Keith whines, low and needy. It’s a sound Shiro’s weak to so he presses forward, giving Keith what he needs and licking into his mouth as filthy as he can. It’s unrefined and wet and Shiro waits till Keith’s got his lip between his teeth to finally cup Keith the way he really wants.

Keith immediately arches into the touch, letting go of the kiss in favour of a long groan. Shiro can feel the slight tremor in Keith’s thighs. He’s _so_ easy.

“That’s it,” Shiro murmurs, stroking Keith idly once, twice before squeezing again. Keith shudders under his fingers when Shiro gives him and earnest tug. He tries to kiss Shiro but Shiro decides to stroke faster, firmer. Keith has to settle for panting into his mouth instead and it takes only a little more before Keith’s trying to shape his name, sounding desperate and hoarse and so, _so_ sweet. He starts to rock back against Shiro, the first time like he can’t help it and every time after like he doesn’t want to.

Shiro gets a loud sound of protest when he lets go of Keith again, but it dies down as he brings his palm up in a silent request. Keith releases Shiro in favour of grabbing his palm and flattening his tongue over it till it’s slick enough. When Shiro wraps his hand around Keith again, Keith makes a pathetic sound which sends Shiro’s head spinning.

Keith tips his head back as Shiro strokes him in earnest, baring his neck. Shiro nips at it then bites it properly, worrying the skin between his teeth. Keith lets out a garbled sound which might sound like a _more_ , but blood has started to thunder through Shiro’s ears as his hand flies over Keith. Keith’s own hand lands on the side of Shiro’s thighs and he uses it to plant himself down and grind back against Shiro, hard enough to have him stuttering and biting down harder.

Determined, Shiro jerks him faster, sending a full-body shudder through Keith. Immediately, a hand slaps his forearm and Shiro feels Keith’s nails dig in. It doesn’t slow him down though and by the way Keith’s moans choke off, Shiro can tell he’s reaching his end soon.

“Close?” Shiro asks, feigning innocence like he doesn’t know Keith’s coming undone against him.

“May- _ah_ \- maybe,” Keith manages before he lets out a sharp sound and comes, warm and wet and messy over Shiro’s hand. Shiro lets him ride it out, enjoying the desperate and frantic way Keith stutters in his hand.

“Maybe,” Shiro echoes with a laugh, not letting go until he’s sure he’s gotten everything he can from Keith. Despite his best efforts to keep himself grounded, having Keith being boneless and pliant is stoking a hunger in him he knows he can’t satiate. Not yet.

He lets Keith come down for a few moments, before he tugs off Keith’s shirt for him. He tosses the cloth off to the side and when he turns Keith over in his lap, Keith’s already pushing in for a kiss.

“Wanna be good for me, sweetheart?” Shiro says against Keith’s mouth, running both his hands over Keith’s bare backside. He gives it a hard squeeze for good measure before smacking it hard enough with his human hand that Keith falls forward onto him.

Keith’s eyes tinge yellow at this and Shiro tries to not look too pleased with himself when he feels the pinpricks of fangs in the next sloppy kiss. It’s a point of pride for Shiro when he can draw this side out from Keith in bed, especially from the most simplest acts. Shiro’s fully hard now, his body yelling at him to tug down his sweats and get the skin-on-skin contact he’s craving. He’s not going to be the one to ask for it though, because Shiro is determined not to be the one who loses.

Ideally, Keith would be the one who, in an attempt to tease Shiro, makes the situation desperate for himself. Shiro doesn’t know if it’s wishful thinking clouding his brain, but he can definitely see Keith trying to tease him and inadvertently getting himself worked up enough that he ends up begging Shiro for it.

Though this could also just be the cockiness speaking, the one that comes hand in hand with getting Keith off. When Keith draws back from their kiss with a wicked smile, Shiro concedes that it probably is.

“Woah,” Keith says, voice husky. “For a second there, I thought you were going to give in.”

He delivers the words with an inflection that says he knows the exact way in which Shiro is fantasizing about making Keith desperate enough to be the one to forfeit. The look in Keith’s eyes tells him that in no uncertain terms is Shiro getting what he wants.

Today, at least.

“Give in for what?” Shiro asks in as casual a voice as he can. Keith flattens himself out more against Shiro, and Shiro can tell the moment Keith feels the full length of him. Keith goes slightly cross-eyed and Shiro leans up to kiss him under his jaw. He licks his lips and presses them against the most sensitive part of Keith’s neck, feeling the vibrations of Keith’s pleased hum. It’s almost a purr.

“I didn't take you as someone who's ready to lose so easily,” Keith says, raising a hand to stroke through Shiro's hair. They both know that Shiro’s not, but Shiro’s not surprised by the determination with which Keith eggs him on.

Keith's voice curls around him like smoke, and Shiro resists the urge to smack his ass again and melt out some of the smugness of his voice. By the way that Keith's looking at him, corners of his lips turned up in a crooked smile, Shiro knows it won't have the intended effect anyways.

Shiro _could_ concede. He could flip Keith onto his back, could work him open until he's begging Shiro for it and clawing at him like an animal. Keith would let him too, would let Shiro take him while he's so supine, would listen to Shiro and come for him again and again till Shiro's satisfied with it. Till it doesn’t matter if he lost because Keith will let Shiro take him like a victory anyways. Keith's good like that.

But he'd also be undeniably cocky about it too, in that quiet but knowing way of his. It'll be more fuel for him to use to push Shiro's buttons and Shiro doesn't know if his own competitive side would be able to handle losing something like this. Keith wouldn't let him live it down and Shiro itches at the thought of breaking.

“I'm not going to lose,” Shiro says, his voice carrying just the slightest amount of petulance. Keith cocks an eyebrow, and this time Shiro _does_ give him a warning smack, one that makes Keith grin wider.

“Whatever you say,” Keith replies, and his teeth still glint in the low green light of their bedroom. “ _Admiral_.”

By the tone of the voice, Shiro can tell— Keith has no intention of playing fair.

It's fine though.

Shiro has no intention of giving in.

* * *

 

He does though have intentions of making Keith’s week better again. Shiro is still determined to make a concentrated effort in cheering him up again. Since Keith got reprimanded the last time he tried, Shiro decides to go for a gesture that he knows Keith can’t get in trouble for.

The next morning, Keith’s sitting at their dining table and staring blearily at his blinking datapad. His hair is still sleep-mussed and he looks at the orange screen with heavy-lidded eyes. Kosmo’s tail thumps lazily out from underneath the table as Keith idly feeds him bits of his toast.

Shiro presses a kiss to Keith’s temple as he passes him by on the way to the kitchen, sneaking a look at the pad as he goes. Keith’s loading his schedule for the day so Shiro moves away to pour himself some coffee.

“Busy day today?” Shiro asks, and Keith half-shrugs in return.

“I’ve got a two hour slot that’s not blocked off as free time but my schedule isn't telling me where I have to be,” Keith frowns at the datapad. “I think I got assigned a class.”

Shiro fills up a second cup of coffee and joins Keith at the dining table. Keith looks gratefully at the steaming mug, and Shiro reaches to tip the screen and take a look. Indeed, there’s a blank block of hours on his schedule that tells Keith he needs to be somewhere, but not where. Shiro frowns and pushes it back to Keith.

“You better not have been,” Shiro says, because if there was a miscommunication, then his plans for the day are going out the window.

“They must really be desperate if they picked me,” Keith mutters, like it’s not a well-known fact that he’s a popular instructor amongst the junior cadets, purely due to his flagrant disregard for what he can put them through in the simulators.

“You don’t know for sure,” Shiro points out and Keith makes a non-committal noise. Keith reaches for his mug his datapad lets off a loud, shrill noise that startles them both. Keith swears and lets go of his mug, swiping on his tablet. Immediately Lance’s face takes up the screen, and Keith’s mouth turns downwards.

“Hello to you too,” Lance says dryly, voice tinny on the speakers. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to catch you.”

“You have five minutes,” Keith says, his standard greeting every time anyone buzzes him. Shiro slides off his chair and rounds the breakfast table, because it’s not often that they get private communications from the team.

“Well,” Lance starts. “We were wondering if we could come back early.”

Shiro and Keith both exchange a look— the team’s been pretty enthusiastic about this mission so far, enough so that it’s been a sore point for Keith. It’s the first the two of them are hearing otherwise.

“Meaning?” Shiro asks and Lance presses his mouth in a thin line.

“I feel like if I look at any more space rocks, I will die,” Lance says plainly. There’s a voice off screen that sounds very much like a reprimanding Pidge, and Lance makes a face at someone in the distance before turning back. “Yeah and also, whatever we’re looking for isn’t here.”

“I knew it,” Keith mutters almost immediately. Shiro puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder and speaks before Keith can.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “I know it’s an extensive-”

“We’re sure,” this time it’s definitely Pidge speaking. She’s still off-screen and there’s a very obvious note of bordeom in her voice. “We’ve checked every single rock in this belt twice over.”

“We’re going to land on Charon for the next few days I think,” Lance explains. “But scanners show there’s no traces of the mineral that the Polluxians are looking for.”

“They’re really insistent that it’s there in the belt somewhere,” Keith cuts in. “I’ll let them know though. There’s no point in having you guys out there on a wild goose chase. I knew it.”

“Yeah, sorry we doubted you bud,” Lance says in a way that indicates that he’s very much not. The mission had been one of those instances where he and Keith fought just to be contrary and Shiro knows Keith’s going to not let Lance forget this. “Do the Polluxians still have it out for you? Or have you been keeping your head above water?”

Predictably, Shiro can see Keith’s ears go pink at the question. He’s glad the image quality is not the greatest on the tablets because he can feel his own face heat up just the slightest amount.

“Don’t worry about it,” Keith says and Lance snorts, giving them a dubious look.

“Ok there-”

“Day after tomorrow we’re having an all hands on deck meeting,” Shiro interjects, derailing that train of conversation. “I’ll make sure to bring it up then. Unless you want it earlier.”

He doesn’t need Lance egging the truth out of a half-asleep Keith, nor does he want Lance to suddenly become more perceptive than he actually is.

“Nah it’s not that big a deal,” Lance says, and yawns large. “Day after’s fine. Anyways, I got to go back. Let us know what happens, but let us know through a private channel.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow in question and Keith squints. Lance shakes his head.

“Allura says we have to play nice with them,” Lance explains. “Apparently the old Alteans were super tight with the Polluxians. Romelle’s part Polluxian, apparently.”

“Only a tenth!” Another voice calls out, more distant than Pidge’s. Shiro makes an amused sound, and Keith mirrors Lance’s yawn.

“Sounds like you guys are having fun,” Shiro says as Lance calls Keith gross.

“Yeah,” Lance says, making no effort in hiding his sardonic voice. “World’s most boring vacation. I’m having a blast.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Keith supplies and Lance gives him a flat look before pointedly disconnecting the call.

Shiro can already hear the gears in Keith’s brain whirring; he knows Keith’s mood has gone up knowing that he might have been right all along. Shiro doubts the Polluxians will take this lightly, and can already feel the preemptive pangs of the headache that’s to follow.

“Oh,” Keith squints at the screen as his schedule pops up again. “Looks like my empty block filled in. Apparently I have to be in East Hangar B at the end of the day.”

“Wonder what that’s for,” Shiro muses as he takes a sip of coffee, and Keith gives his schedule a bemused look.

“Weird,” Keith says, pinching his fingers on the screen and zooming in to make sure the location’s right.

“Yeah,” Shiro murmurs. “Weird.”

* * *

 

There’s a lot Shiro can get away with given his intergalactic ranking as the commander of the Atlas, former leader of Voltron, current Admiral at the Garrison. There’s a lot Keith can get away with as well as the leader of Voltron, a high-ranking member of the Blade, and the third most popular character on the still-running Voltron Show, a feat that both Allura and the furry Galra that plays him on the syndicated television program fight over credit for.

And yet being a defender of the known universe means nothing on Earth, where Shiro has had to fill out approximately thirty different forms and throw his weight with four different people to sequester his partner for a two-hour block. This, he guesses, is one of the prices of staying humble and accountable.

But it’s worth it when he hears the heavy footsteps of Keith walking through the half-folded hangar doors, looking around for whoever summoned him. Shiro’s standing on a ladder that’s propped against the jet, talking to the engineer, when he hears a familiar voice flag down a cadet and ask them if they know who’s running the block.

Shiro passes off the datapad he had been holding and hops down from the ladder as Keith gets directed towards him.

“Surprise seeing you here,” Shiro says, not bothering to hide the fact that it’s not. Keith looks at him with a bemused expression, giving his flight suit a once-over.

“What’s going on?” Keith asks, looking around. Keith’s still in his red-and-white uniform jacket, but Shiro’s made sure to leave his flight suit neatly folded on a bench in the locker room. He’s already made a mental note to actively not offer to accompany Keith in, because no good’s going to come from them wandering into a secluded room together.

“I’m scheduled to take this thing out for a test flight today,” Shiro tips his head towards the jet beside him. It looks like an old F-16 from the turn of the millenium, but goes significantly faster.  “Looks like they wanted you to be my pilot. I’ll be the intercept.”

“They do?” Keith raises an eyebrow, sounding skeptical. And he has reason to be.

‘They’ actually wanted to keep Keith chained to the Polluxians all day.  It had been suggested that Shiro run the flight with one of the bridge crew from the Atlas, but Shiro had put his foot down and had been extremely adamant that he get Keith for it.

“If it’s okay,” Shiro says. “I know you had to get pulled out of some work today, but I thought you’d like a chance to get up in the air again. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but if you do, there’s a flight suit waiting for you in the locker room.”

Keith doesn’t say it, but Shiro can practically feel the _like it’s a hard choice_ emit from him. Keith silently turns on his heel and Shiro doesn’t miss the skip in his step as he stalks towards the locker room.

From there, it only takes an hour before they’re taxying on the tarmac towards their takeoff runway. Technically Keith’s supposed to be intercept, sitting in the back seat of the cockpit where Shiro is currently, but Shiro knows Keith needs it more than he does. They haven’t been in the air in over a week; they haven’t even had time to take their hoverbikes out and Keith’s feeling it way more than he’s letting on.

This is work too, technically. While there’s thankfully been no conflict on Earth for the past few years, the Garrison still is eager to stay sharp. They’re just ironing out a minor component of the navigation system that Shiro insisted could absolutely not wait till next week, when the jet is scheduled for another full flight.  But as they accelerate up the runway, Keith calling out the knots with more enthusiasm each time, Shiro knows Keith’s getting the break he so deserves and knows that jumping through the hoops that he did was worth it.

“No tricks up there,” Rizavi says over the comms, and Keith’s answering laugh pools low in Shiro’s gut. They’re the last ones up in the air today and Shiro thinks this might be the best idea he’s had so far.

“No promises,” Keith says, before switching to their private line. “How bad do you wanna scare them today?”

“Focus on the nav,” Shiro tries to sound stern, but Keith snorts in return. Shiro can only see the back of his grey helmet, but he can sense the smile plastered on Keith’s face as they start to accelerate.

Shiro can tell the moment Keith feels the pressure of the throttle when they take off; he lets out a small _heh_ that has Shiro’s heart skipping a beat as he gets pushed into the seat. The sky is a vivid blue expanse around them littered with wispy clouds underneath them, and Keith’s voice loses any tightness it had as he relays back to air control.

Everything goes small and insignificant underneath them and Shiro feels more at home than he has all week. This is where they belong,  Keith rolling the plane on its axis as control squawks something about no acrobatics. They’ve been across the universe, been across _dimensions_ but there’s nothing that’s as wrapped in nostalgia and longing than seeing their own green Earth fall away beneath them.

Control crackles in with a “ _Anytime you’re ready to get some actual work done_ ” in a tone that tells Shiro that they aren’t actually expecting a response. He’d given them a non-verbal warning beforehand when he had debriefed them for the afternoon’s flight, relaying instructions in a very specific way to let them know that this flight was more for Keith than anything.

“You’re doing great baby,” Shiro says as they even out, and Keith peels a little to their right.

“Ain’t nothing,” Keith replies back easily. He shapes his words with a loose drawl Shiro doesn’t hear often when they’re not in private, one that he hasn’t heard in awhile. It’s got so much gratitude in it that Shiro’s heart swells. “How’re you feeling back there? I know going into the air for the first time is a scary experience.”  

“Screw you,” Shiro laughs, and almost misses the ' _maybe later_ ’ as Keith tips the nose of the jet up, pulling them into a loop.

The entire flight lasts for the better part of forty minutes. The time rips by too fast but Shiro tries to stay as present as possible instead of drifting off into a faraway type of contentedness. By the time they’re making their descent, Keith’s sounding a lot happier than he has all week. It was by no means an exciting flight, but as they’re hopping down from the cockpit, Keith throws his helmet off with vigor before attacking Shiro.

Shiro finds himself getting scooping into an earnest and eager hug. Keith buries his face into Shiro’s neck and smiles against his skin while squeezing him tight. People mill around them with handfuls of questions but Keith ignores them all in favour of hugging Shiro tight and spinning them enough that Shiro finds himself getting raised onto his toes.

“Feeling better?” Shiro grins, and Keith just beams in return. He ruffles Keith’s hair, pushing his sweat-plastered bangs back so he can get a proper look at his face. There’s a lot of small moments Shiro likes to tuck away, and Keith’s exhilarated look in the golden glow of the sunset is definitely making it onto the highlight reel of his life.

Shiro gets someone to take a picture of the two of them, Keith back in the pilot seat of the plane with the canopy raised and Shiro wedged in behind him. They both grin wide for the camera and when Rizavi starts muttering something about backlight and the datapads having shit settings for their cameras, Shiro glances down at Keith.

Keith looks, so much more carefree like this and when Keith looks up, eyes glimmering, Shiro forgets himself for a moment. He leans down to give Keith an earnest kiss, way beyond the simple peck they normally share in public. He cups Keith’s face and can feel Keith’s fingers circle around his wrist as Keith lets Shiro move them.

There’s a wolf-whistle in the distance but Shiro doesn’t care; he’s too enamoured by Keith to focus on anything else. Elation bubbles in him and he’s finding it hard to let go, especially when Keith grins against him and squeezes his wrist.

Eventually Keith pries Shiro off, saying something about not having all day to waste. Shiro gives him another kiss on the tip of his nose for good luck before he ruffles his hair. He presses his palm flat against the top of Keith’s head, gives him a loving look and then pushes, using Keith as a support to haul out of the plane. Keith squawks and flails and Shiro laughs as he hops down, turning around and holding his arms out to catch Keith. Keith pointedly jumps down to the ground from the other side of the plane.

“Screw you,” Keith calls out from around the body of the jet and Shiro responds in like.

“Maybe later,” he replies, and it’s definitely worth the blend of exasperated and terrified looks they get from the people around them.

 

* * *

 

 

The excitement from flying bleeds into the evening— Shiro didn’t expect this kind of reward, but he welcomes it. The food sits cooling on the dining table as he’s melting into the couch cushions, sucking a mark onto Keith’s sternum as Keith drapes over him. Shiro inhales, surrounded by Keith’s freshly showered scent, and feels Keith push at his thighs with a knee. Shiro spreads his legs further and Keith makes a pleased sound at this, lowering himself so that he can kiss Shiro properly.

“Mm,” Shiro feels Keith flatten out against him, enjoys the press of Keith’s bare chest against his own. “Tell me what you want.”

They had snuck food from the canteen back to their quarters, fully intent on scarfing it down and passing out. Shiro had showered first so he could get the food heated up while Keith washed up but by the time Keith had come out of the bathroom, he was more focused on pushing Shiro down onto the sofa.

“Want to taste you,” Keith murmurs against his lips. He’s still warm from his shower. “Want you in me, maybe.”

Keith punctuates this with another plush kiss, his tongue insistent against Shiro’s. It’s eager and consuming and Shiro would be more than happy to just stay here and make out all night long. He’d be happy even if they vacuumed all their food and crashed right after, because Keith’s lost some of that tension that was holding him rigid for the past few days.

But Keith’s got more plans than just necking on the couch. He tugs Shiro’s sweat pants down enough to spring him free, and Shiro groans when he feels the cloth of Keith’s briefs rub against him. He bucks up to chase it and one hand immediately finds itself on his hip, pinning Shiro down.

“Patience,” Keith grins in a familiar tone and Shiro gives him a warning nip on his bottom lip. Keith laughs and starts to move downwards. He starts at Shiro’s neck and mouths at him slowly and deliberately and Shiro has to close his eyes at the friction as Keith slides down.

Calloused hands skim over Shiro’s chest, tentative as always. Keith touches Shiro like it’s a new experience each time, with a reverent look as he scrapes his nails lightly down his chest. Keith leaves a series of small bites in his wake, a few of them bruising down Shiro’s torso. By the time Shiro opens his eyes again, Keith’s on his knees between his legs, wicked look on his face.

Belatedly, just as Keith leans toward to give the lightest cursory swipe of his tongue, Shiro remembers. He didn’t plan to use today as a way to get Keith to lose their game but he’d be lying if the dark look of want Keith has isn’t making him feel _extremely_ self-satisfied.

“Giving up already?” He teases as Keith takes him properly in hand, and Keith freezes. Confusion flashes briefly across before his face before he realizes what Shiro’s referring to.

“Are you?” Keith counters, punctuating it with another lick, one down the entire length of him. He blows lightly on the wet trail and Shiro works hard to not shiver. “No one said anything about you finishing today.”

“I’m not gonna do anything you don’t wanna do, baby,” Shiro says, reaching forward to cup Keith’s cheek so that he can hide the sharp pang of want that rings through him at Keith’s words. Keith leans into his palm for a brief moment before he’s back to teasing Shiro with his tongue.

“Trying to be coy?” Keith asks, his lips brushing against Shiro. Shiro’s tempted to slide his hand up into Keith’s hair and tug him into a more useful position so that Shiro can slide into his mouth.

“Just trying to enjoy you,” Shiro replies in a low voice. It seems to be the right thing to say because Keith looks at him up through his lashes one more time before licking his lips and taking in just the head.

Shiro swears and Keith flicks his tongue. He strokes Shiro once, slow and deliberate in the maddening way that he does before closing his eyes and tilting his head. He swallows Shiro down just enough for Shiro to feel the bulge of himself in Keith's mouth against his palm.

It makes him go cross-eyed and he can't help but moan as Keith moves slowly, teasing and not taking Shiro in any further.  It's a lot and feels like it's barely there at the same time. Shiro gives in to his more base urges and pushes his fingers into Keith's hair. He curls them through dark hair and moves Keith's head for him, angling him just enough so that he can shiff his hips and push further into the heat of Keith's mouth.

Keith groans and the vibrations of it spur Shiro on. He gives thrusts shallow  and Keith welcomes it, visibly relaxing his jaw. And then without any push, Keith swallows him down whole.

Shiro swears loudly, and Keith hollows his cheeks. Shiro's head spins at the sound of Keith slowly dragging his lips up, the tightness making Shiro's toes curl. Keith draws back up till the tip and moves his tongue in a way Shiro  instantly recognizes as one of his own favourite ways to tease Keith. Shiro nudges Keith and Keith goes down on him again, humming

“You're so easy,” Keith draws off full with a slick sound, and looks up at Shiro with spit shined lips. “I thought you were a man of control.”

“I am,” Shiro replies and the derisive snort Keith gives stirs something in him. “What?”

Keith says nothing; instead, he dips down again, fast this time as he takes Shiro down his throat. Shiro hisses at it, bucks up his hips. He presses down on Keith’s head and feels Keith go completely lax around him.

“Baby,” he groans, and Keith shoots him a wicked look from under his eyelashes. Keith tries to move but Shiro keeps him pinned while he contemplates what to do with him. It's tempting to bruise Keith's throat the way they both like it, to hold him down and fuck into him till his eyes are wet. Keith laughs around him and Shiro knows Keith's trying to work him up just as much as he likes to work Keith up.

But in the moment, Shiro sees no issue in it.

He replaces the hand he has in Keith’s hair with his prosthetic one. His human one snakes downwards to wrap around Keith’s throat, wanting to feel Keith work in more way than one. Feeling masochistic, he pulls on Keith’s hair. Keith sucks in his cheeks as he’s tugged up part way through, right before Shiro loosens his grip in warning. Right as Keith’s brow pinches, Shiro thrusts up hard, drawing a surprised sound from Keith.

Keith scrabbles, grabs onto Shiro’s thighs in a silent request for more and Shiro repeats the action, over and over. He watches as Keith’s eyebrows relax and his eyes go half-lidded as Shiro picks up the pace.

“No tricks,” Shiro warns, and Keith’s fingers dig harder into the meat of his thighs. Keith moans around him, tries to move. Shiro tightens his grip again, holding Keith’s head still so he can’t do more than keep himself loose as Shiro fucks in. “Yeah, that’s it-”

Shiro knows he’s teetering dangerously close, both to losing and to coming hot down Keith’s throat. Keith would take it to, would laugh and gloat only a little about winning before he would crawl onto the sofa and put Shiro on his back.

Keith’s eyelashes glisten and his eyes have closed fully. He lets out a satisfied purr when Shiro bottoms out in his mouth, inhales sharply before he’s drawn back again. Keith releases Shiro’s thighs and drops one down to his own lap. The sounds he starts making as he jerks himself off to Shiro using him has Shiro’s vision blurring and his brain slowly melting. Shiro thrusts fast and shallow as he comes close and finally, he sees one of Keith’s hands drift to wrap around him.

Shiro knows what’s coming. And he hates losing.

He twists his fingers and yanks Keith by his hair. Keith makes a startled sound as Shiro hauls him off and Shiro tries to ignore just how much not finishing is making him crumple on the inside. Keith's lips are a bitten red colour and his cheeks are flushed high. He looks like he’s halfway to being wrecked, completely dazed. Keith’s still got a loose hand around himself, one that Shiro helpfully pries off. Keith makes a sound of protest at that and Shiro bends forward to swallow it up in a kiss.

There's no rule of engagement where Keith's not allowed to get off. But if Keith wants Shiro to suffer, he's going to have to put in a lot more effort. Shiro has no intention of making it easy for him either, something that he hopes he’s made very clear as he starts to tug up his own sweatpants.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Shiro grins, trying to hide the way his voice wants to crack over the words. Desire’s burning like a five-alarm flame in his gut and the stunned expression Keith’s wearing is decidedly not helping.  “Our food’s getting cold.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for your patience!! plz see added tags. also my weeks been cwazy so this isn't uhh the best edited but i'll own my mistakes haha

It’s not much of a stretch to assume that if Keith’s the one to raise the topic of bringing their friends home early, the team’s stay is going to get extended further. With the way their relationship stands, if the Polluxians are this firmly set then Keith is the last person that would be able to even nudge them. The Garrison brass will barely help either, enamoured for some reason with the Polluxians.

So naturally, the task of bringing it up falls on Shiro during their all-hands-on-deck meeting. The room is large and teeming with officials, and Shiro thinks vaguely that he’ll be able to convince a good number of them that a team scouting the same rocks for days on end despite knowing that they’re going to come up empty handed is maybe not the best use of the Garrison’s time or resources.

He schedules his time to speak right before the closing remarks for the meeting, because he knows no one wants to spend an hour arguing with him and stay later than they have to. It holds especially true for today because it’s not been that eventful, and he’s lost count of how many glazed-over expressions he sees in the room.

Shiro is also aware of the type of command and finality he holds over others, the type that he always pushes further so that there’s no room for complaints. He tacks on the request at the end of a small speech praising an initiative to rebuild smaller civilian communities.

“We received communication from Team Voltron,” Shiro opens, and his datapad blinks a red, three dimensional hologram of the Kuiper belt into existence. “They’ve scoured all of this and they haven’t been able to find what they’re looking for.”

The delegate for the Polluxians does not bother hiding their displeased look. Their eyes narrow, and Shiro can tell that they’re ready to find a hole in what he’s about to say.

“You need to keep looking,” the delegate says, and Shiro shakes his head. He taps his datapad and the hologram separates into three copies of the same thing.

“They’ve upturned and scanned every object in the belt three times,” Shiro says. “Once manually and twice with the equipment the your people were kind enough to provide us. They’ve turned up nothing.”

The delegate’s ears twitch; a few others in the room have their attention clearly roused as well, probably more to watch the beginnings of a squabble.

“I’m putting forward an official request to bring them back,” Shiro continues,  folding his arm behind his back and looking directly at the delegate. “We’re wasting manpower by having them camp out there.”

“There were reports of the metumuxite—” the Polluxian says but Shiro carefully raises one eyebrow. The look on his face is enough for them to cut themselves off and they sit back in their chair, still looking unhappy.

“We’ve used your tech because you said ours wasn’t good enough,” Shiro says, speaking plainly. “And we can’t find anything. I can think of three different projects going on right now where the team can be better used. Though of course,”

Shiro turns his attention to address the room at large. The only one who’s not giving him his full focus is Keith, who’s boring a hole with his eyes into the empty chair that sits across the conference table, opposite to his own.  They had agreed that Keith would keep his head down as much possible during the meeting, though Shiro thinks there’s a discussion to be had about the amount of respect Keith needs to be shown versus the amount he’s been getting from their guests lately.

“It’s a decision for all of us to make,” Shiro continues. “I think it’s clear what the most pragmatic course of action is, but I’m leaving it up to the room as a whole to come to a resolution. I have forwarded all of you the findings from the mission. I hope that you decide well.”

There’s a soft murmur around the conference table as Shiro taps his datapad and the holograms he had pulled up blip out of existence. As he makes his way to his seat, Shiro tips his head politely in the direction of where the Polluxian sits and they make no effort to disguise the sour look on their face. Nothing in Shiro’s gut makes him suspicious of them, not in a way that he’d guess they’re being outright sinister. But he can tell that they are trying to hide something, and he’s determined to extract what exactly that something is.

Shiro settles back into his chair as another general stands up for the last remarks. A lull falls back over the room, and the Polluxian pointedly avoids any sort of eye contact with Shiro. Sitting through meetings like these, Shiro thinks idly, is the worst punishment to come out of being grounded.

He chances a glance at Keith, whose gaze has shifted to the table as he very much avoids looking at Shiro as well. Shiro frowns and squeezes the fingers of his prosthetic arm, the one that no one had noticed was missing when he had gone up to speak. He sees Keith’s body go rigid as Shiro runs a thumb along the seam of his pants, right where they curve with his knee and Shiro tries to keep his expression blank.

His hand had drifted quiet and stealthy under the large table a few minutes before he had gotten up to speak. It had been a spur of the moment decision; Keith had looked equally bored and beautiful and Shiro had a sudden itch to touch. He had a clean path to Keith’s leg, and had landed his palm right on top of Keith’s thigh.

Shiro had been able to see the moment his hand made contact. Keith’s eyes had widened fractionally and his whole body went rigid for a fleeting second before it relaxed. Shock had been replaced by an amused glare and Shiro had reciprocated with his best innocent look. He’ll swear that it was unintentional and that his hand just _really_ misses Keith. Shiro knows neither of those reasons are going to fly with Keith when he inevitably corners Shiro at the end of this meeting.

For the most part Shiro had kept his hand soft and inactive, sitting on top of Keith’s leg and using the pressure as comfort as he began his own presentation. In the middle of his sentences when he was in danger of losing his train of thought, rubbing soft circles into Keith’s inner thigh helped him find his next set of words. No one looked like they were any the wiser, except for Keith who had been trying very hard not to squirm.

Now that he’s back in his seat, Shiro toys with leaving his hand resting on Keith’s leg. It’s not the time nor the place and Shiro knows he should pull back his hand, otherwise he might do something that’ll embarrass them both. Getting caught and reprimanded is something he’s not looking to have a repeat performance of.

But when he starts to retreat, fingers encircle his wrist and squeeze. He chances a glance at Keith who looks at him briefly as he scoots forward. The table cuts a crease across his torso and when Shiro tugs again, Keith’s grip around him is further and grounding and. Well. Shiro’s never been one to deny Keith anything.

Shiro drums his fingers lightly before cupping Keith’s knee again and squeezing. The grip around him relaxes and Keith returns his attention to the meeting.

The general at the front keeps speaking and Shiro does his best to pay focus on what they’re saying. He also starts skimming his fingers feather light along the inner seam of Keith’s pants. Shiro plucks at the fabric and pinches Keith, and Keith looks like he’s trying very hard not to make a sound. Face as nonchalant as possible, Shiro pushes his hand up further till he’s reached the crease of Keith’s leg.

Shiro could leave it here but— he’s not going to. He’s going to see how close he can hover his hand in dangerous territory. Keith straightens up as Shiro starts to draw circles against Keith’s inner thigh. Once or twice he thinks about shifting his hand further and settling it in the comfortable junction of Keith’s leg. Keith’s manage to school himself into an excellent poker face; Shiro just hopes he’s able to control how fast he gets flushed.

Tentatively, Shiro starts to trace one finger upwards, gentle and lingering. But when he reaches the upper crease of Keith’s legs, he immediately feels them snap close. Shiro gets the hint and starts to move his hand but there’s a soft thud as something grabs him. The look he gets from across the conference table is dangerous.

No one else has noticed the clumsy way both of Keith’s hands dove under the conference table to grab at Shiro’s wrist. Shiro gives a half-hearted tug but Keith keeps the arm there. It’s a vice grip, more desperate than when he had stopped Shiro from leaving before. Shiro raises an eyebrow in Keith’s direction and Keith pointedly looks away, a pink blush creeping up his neck.

Shiro gives Keith’s thigh a squeeze and Keith finally lets him go, removing his hands. He watches with some satisfaction as Keith clenches his fists, feels it more when Keith’s legs fall apart for him again.

He starts to knead the muscle gently, the same specific way he does when he’s about to go down on Keith. Ideally he’d be able to run his mouth over Keith as well but there’s only so much that can be done in a meeting room full of colleagues. Shiro gently pushes at Keith to get him to spread his legs just a bit further. Keith mumbles an apology to Kinkade for bumping his knee and Shiro lightly cups his hand between Keith’s legs.

And squeezes.

No one’s ever said he’s not a man of action.

There’s a loud thud as Keith flattens his palm against the table. A few people look at him to see if he’s okay and he starts to cough in his hand, colour rising in his cheeks. Kinkade silently passes him a bottle of water. Shiro strokes him softly over the fabric of his pants as Keith graciously drinks the water. To his credit, Keith barely sputters around it.

Keith sets the bottle down with more force than necessary and Shiro likes the way the bottom crumples just enough. He presses down with the heel of his hand as a reward and Keith’s knuckles go white as the plastic crushes between his fingers. Kinkade appears concerned and whispers something to Keith, but Keith mouths an “ _I’m okay”_ to him.

Shiro palms Keith further and Keith falls forward, disguising whatever sounds Shiro’s elicited from him in a series of coughs. Shiro watches as Kinkade quietly suggests that they’ll help him sneak out if he’s not feeling well but Keith shakes his head. It’s not like Keith can get up and leave anyways, not with how quickly he’s gone hard under Shiro’s hand. Keith lets go of his bottle and gives Shiro a look of murder-lust-embarrassment that Shiro takes pride in.

He decides to take some mercy on Keith and lets his palm simply rest against Keith. He’s careful and light, making sure that there’s no pressure again. He’s going to claim he did it so that Keith could focus on the rest of the meeting but Shiro knows the weight of his hand without any action drives Keith crazy more than anything else he can do. By the time the meeting is adjourned, Keith hasn’t looked up from his desk in a good five minutes.

Shiro stays seated as the room starts to bustle and others start to file out slowly. He says hello to a few people but doesn’t get up, politely sending them on their way whenever they try to start a conversation. Iverson passes by and looks around before leaning down and telling him that they will need to meet with the Polluxians separately but he's hoping that the rest of the brass will agree that wasting their resources scouring for something that's not there is not the way to go. Shiro nods in agreement, drums his prosthetic fingers again across the room and gives Iverson a small smile as he straightens up and leaves. He can hear Kinkade asking Keith if he’s okay from his end of the table and Keith grunting in return.

“I don’t think he’s feeling well,” Shiro calls out. “I’ll stay back and see if I need to take him to the infirmary.”

It’s a good enough excuse, and Shiro flicks through his datapad while waiting for the room to empty out completely. He feels energy thrumming within him, eager to touch Keith again, and he knows for Keith it must be worse. It’s not long before it’s just the two of them but given Keith’s patience, time must have moved like molasses for him.

As soon as the last person ambles out of the room Keith falls forward, face planting against the desk in time with the sound of the door closing shut. Shiro waits a few more minutes before he speaks, making sure they’re well and truly alone.

“Are you doing okay over there, sweetheart?” Shiro asks, voice saccharine as he removes his hand completely off of Keith's groin. Keith sucks in a sharp inhale and Shiro lets him breathe for a moment before he gets back to work.

Shiro carefully slides his hand under the uniform jacket, pushing up as far as the snug material will let him. At a distance, he runs too much of a risk of being clumsy while unbuttoning the jacket and ripping it. That sort of dexterity though is definitely a skill he thinks he needs to work on.

Keith’s stomach contracts under the touch of metal fingers and Shiro lets out a pleased hum. He’s glad Shiro’s wearing his pants and an undershirt instead of his full body suit because he’s able to bunch up Keith’s shirt and skim his hand over bare skin. Keith mutters something too quiet for Shiro to catch.

“What’d you say?” Shiro asks and Keith raises his head. He looks at Shiro with overbright eyes, blush sitting high and bright on his cheeks. Desire licks low in Shiro and the way Keith licks his lips before speaking has Shiro’s legs tensing.

On the outside, Shiro keeps a pleasant face.

“I said this is cheating,” Keith’s voice is strangled, hoarse from lack of use and the effort he needs to keep a hold on himself.

“Is it?” Shiro asks idly, drags his hand up again. He raises his fingers and sees Keith’s shoulders go rigid right before he brings his palm down. It’s not hard at all, but the tap is enough to make Keith squeak out loud. He cups and squeezes again, this time with more love. “Tell me how.”

“It is,” Keith’s voice is weak but insistent. Shiro makes an amused sound and pushes his chair back. Keith eyes him wearily as he slowly rises to his feet and brushes off the front of his jacket.

Shiro rounds the table, stalking slowly towards Keith. Keith doesn’t turn to greet him. He sits and stares with determination at Shiro’s empty seat as Shiro pulls out Kinkade’s chair and sits down. He grabs the back of Keith’s and after a quick glance over his shoulder towards the door, Shiro turns Keith just enough so that he’s forced to look at him. Shiro angles himself so that his own body is blocking them both from the door and if anyone walks in, he can act like he’s just checking up on Keith.

“Tell me how it's cheating,” Shiro says, not unkindly. “I’m not touching myself.”

Up close, Shiro can take more care. He fiddles with the button of Keith's pants attentively without running the danger of ripping it. Keith closes his eyes as Shiro pops it open and starts to tease his fingers just past the waistband. He can feel the want roll off Keith in waves and in a small show of benevolence, Shiro lets his hand settle above Keith's underwear.

Keith looks flustered and beautiful like this. His hair’s become a mess somehow, and his bottom lip is turning red with how hard he keeps biting it. They’ve barely done anything but Keith still manages to look freshly fucked in a way that draws Shiro in like a magnet. He wants to do more, wants to take more, wants to unravel Keith more. Keith shifts and Shiro gets an idea.

“I thought it was ok for you to get off, just not me,” Shiro says and concentrates on his hand. “Otherwise you do know that I'd have you on this table.”

He punctuates his words by letting his hand vibrate right over where Keith's hard. Keith's eyes shoot wide open and he sucks in a sharp breath that teeters on the edge of being a moan.

“Shir— _fuck_ ,” Keith gasps and his hips finally twitch the way Shiro wants them to, rocking into the flat of his palm. Shiro stills his hand and Keith lets out a pathetic sound that makes him feel like a predator, waiting to pounce.

“Doing this doesn't mean I'm going to lose,” Shiro says, his voice dipping into a lower register. “I'm fine with waiting however long you want me to. But are you?”

“Am I what?” Keith grits out and Shiro gives him a proper squeeze. He's got a strong urge to slide his human hand down Keith's pants too so that he can feel him proper, hot and hard and heavy. Shiro’s had him so many times in so many ways, but it’s just made him hunger for him more.

“Not having me,” Shiro strokes and taps a finger. “Not letting me have you. You're fine with it, right? As long as you get off.”

“Of course,” Keith says and somehow, true to his character, despite the fact that he’s falling apart Keith manages to sound impetuous.  Shiro snorts.

“Of course,” he repeats. “Tell me something.”

“What?”

They don’t have a lot of time; there’s another meeting scheduled in here in a few minutes and the last thing Shiro needs is for the mood to turn sour again. He makes his hand vibrate again, a slow and steady hum that has a bead of sweat forming at Keith’s temple.

“Fuck,” Keith swears and Shiro smiles pleasantly. Keith grinds forward, all pretenses of any self-control crumbling away as his neck reddens. Shiro leans forward, drops his voice to a near-whisper.

“When you realize you’re not fine with it,” Shiro says, honey-sweet. “Where do you want me to do it?”

“Wh-wh-”

“Do you want me to fuck you in the same closet that got us in trouble? Or do you want me to take you on a table like this,” Shiro strokes Keith, the fabric under his hand growing damp. “I’d say our quarters, but I don’t think you’d make it that far.”

“You - _ah_ \- you think too highly of yourself,” Keith manages to spit out, and he’s got Shiro’s hand in a death grip again. Shiro stops stroking but keeps his hand buzzing as Keith rocks desperately into it.

“Do I?” Shiro hums, watching as Keith’s movements grow shallow and more frantic. Keith scrunches his eyes shut and his mouth drops open in a silent ‘ _o_ ’. His shoulders shudder, and Shiro feels the heat of his body. Keith’s hot like a furnace, always is when he’s coming close.

Keith doesn’t hear him, too busy using Shiro’s hand and trying to chase his end. He’s so close that Shiro almost tastes it, his own mouth dry at the sight. It’s a herculean effort that he manages to keep his voice cool as he clicks his teeth.

“Maybe you’re right,” Shiro says, and stills his hand completely. The effect of cutting Keith off is immediate-- Keith loses balance and slams his hands down on the table in front of him. It’s then that Shiro lets his arm vibrate in full force and Keith yelps, eyes rolling back as Shiro finally gives him enough to make him come.

Shiro thinks Keith says his name somewhere in the mix of curses and cries, but his own heart’s beating too loud for him to hear. He lets Keith ride it out in his hand, slowly turning down the buzz as Keith calms down. Sort of.

Shiro doesn’t have all the time in the world to make sure Keith comes down from his high properly, something that’s almost as good as him not letting Keith finish at all. Keith instantly whips around as Shiro pries his hand out of Keith’s grip.

“You-” Keith starts as Shiro stands up, his Altean arm dutifully floating back to his side. Keith looks like a wild thing, eyes glimmering with just the faintest tinge of yellow, hair rumpled around him. His face is ruddy and Shiro leans forward, presses a kiss to a damp temple.

“You’ve got five minutes before people start coming in for the next meeting,” Shiro says blandly like he’s telling Keith the weather. “I’ve got to run. I’ll see you tonight.”

Keith sputters as Shiro draws back and pushes his bangs off his face with his human hand. Keith looks bemused and gorgeous like this and Shiro commits it to memory, commits the look of satiation and disbelief Keith has as he steps away from the table. Keith looks dumbfounded as Shiro opens the door to the room and gives Keith a short salute.

Shiro doesn’t actually have anywhere important to be for another hour, but seeing Keith worked up has worked him up in a way he’s not going to admit.  He winks at Keith as he leaves and tails it towards one of the smaller gyms, ready to unleash his pent up energy.

  


* * *

 

 

Shiro is the one to deliver the update to the team from his office. He had wanted Keith there as well but Keith in no small words had messaged back and told him that he had a day of work to finish and he couldn’t sneak away with Shiro. He’s got to substitute in as an instructor with Matt for a group of junior cadets running their own missions on the sims for the first time so Keith gives Shiro the go ahead to tell the team on his own.

“Did you tell them them the part where we’ve found absolutely nothing?” Hunks voice is tinny and crackling, his face pixelated with poor reception. It’s still clear that he’s not too happy about the delay in the decision. “Nada? Zip? Zilch, even.”

“I did,” Shiro says, eyes focused more on the door to his office. He’s given instruction to not be disturbed, but he knows it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s not going to get eavesdropped on. “I told them you’ve used their tech as well, but they said they still want time to think about it.”

“Probably because they know we’re right and if they stall, we’re up here longer,” Hunk sighs loudly through his nose. “Fantastic. Well, if three times won’t do it for them, by tomorrow afternoon your time we would have completed another full scan of the belt. Maybe four will be the lucky number.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Shiro says dryly. “If they hadn’t shown us proof, I’d doubt this thing even exists.”

Hunk snorts, runs a hand through his hair. “Believe me, I’m starting to think it doesn’t and all we were shown was a neat magic trick.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Shiro says and Hunk shrugs.

“Anyways, I’ve got to run,” Hunk says. “Oh wait, look at this.”

Hunk pulls up a large piece of chart paper that has possibly the ugliest drawing Shiro has ever seen. It’s only recognizable feature is what Shiro thinks is supposed to be a mullet and a scar that he’s intimately familiar with.

“Last night's blind drawn charades,” Hunk explains and Shiro grins. “This one’s a Hunk Garrett special.”

“Bring that back so that I can stick it on our fridge,” Shiro says and Hunk gives him a mock salute and a _yes captain_ before disconnecting the comms. Shiro leans back in his seat for a moment and looks at the blank screen where Hunk had been drawn up.

He’s already parsed through the data that the team had sent him, had double checked it to see if they had missed anything before bringing it forward in the meeting. If what the Polluxians have said about the mineral is true then stumbling across even the smallest piece would be akin to stumbling across a treasure trove. But even now, as he draws up the hologram with the Kuiper belt again, he can’t see anything that they’ve missed. Each and every fragment has been scanned and has come up empty.

Shiro thinks that even if they get vetoed, he’s going to make an executive decision to pull the team back. Keith’s already antsy with how much time and energy they’ve wasted and both him and Shiro are not beyond stepping on toes to act in their team’s best interest. They had passed up on an aide mission with Krolia to work with the Polluxians and on Shiro’s growing list of woes, not encouraging Keith to go with the Blades and tagging along sits pretty high for Shiro.

Keith’s nowhere to be seen for the rest of the day, not even at dinner. Shiro ends up sharing a table with Matt in the canteen and they kill the time with Matt telling how beautifully each and every single junior cadet crashed in their sim. Keith had tried to rattle off an inspiring tale to the class but given the natural tone and cadence of his voice, he had ended up terrifying the entire class.

Shiro asks where Keith is and Matt tells him that he’s doing laps around the grounds with Kosmo at his side.

“He was practically buzzing out of his seat,” Matt says, jabbing a forkful of peameal bacon at Shiro. “I’ve never seen him so fidgety. He said he had a lot of excess energy to burn off.”

“Is that so?” Shiro manages to keep a straight face as he replies and Matt narrows his eyes for a fraction of a second. Around most people Shiro’s good at remaining stoic but there’s something about Matt that makes Shiro want to see him suffer, so he lets the corners of his mouth twitch up.

“I-” Matt starts and pauses. Thinks better of it, by the look on his face. “You know what, no. I’m going to tell you about the rest of my day.”

“You do that,” Shiro replies and Matt gives him a mildly put-off look before launching into his day. Shiro pretends to listen raptly and he’s pretty sure Matt’s only talking this much so that Shiro doesn’t have any space to speak himself. He’s allowed maybe a few words of reaction, sympathy, or amusement before Matt launches into the next story.

Near the end of dinner, his datapad pings with a message from Iverson. He swipes it open as Matt rattles on, and feels his entire face visibly fall as he reads the correspondence from a meeting with the Polluxians. A meeting that he and Keith had clearly been left out of.

It’s not that he didn’t expect this. Shiro would have been more surprised they had rolled over with no resistance and had allowed them to pull their team back.

“Damn,” Matt whistles, staring over Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro angles the screen so that Matt can see better, and Matt makes an extremely derisive noise. “Wow, they really used all their brain power for this one, huh?”

Couched in excessively polite terms, the Polluxians have kindly informed where exactly Shiro can shove the idea to rescind the crew early. Something in Shiro’s chest tightens with annoyance and he feels himself on the edge of standing up and storming out of the cafeteria. It would be a bad look though, and he has to mentally count to three while scanning the message.

Shiro can already feel the migraine forming, especially when he sees he’s the only one that had been copied on the missive. If they’ve not told Keith it’s going to fall upon Shiro to do so, and the last thing he wants to do is be the messenger for bad news. Shiro knows that for the next few hours, he’s going to have to put his brain towards thinking of the most diplomatic way to tell them to go fuck themselves.

“Rough luck,” Mat says as he scrolls down the missive. “I’m still weirded out by the fact that they were sent there to begin with. Couldn’t they search themselves if they’re so desperate for it?”

“They say it’s in our territory and they don’t want to be invasive by mining,” Shiro explains. “And the Garrison’s really interested in it too. Enough that what I say and Keith says doesn’t matter.”

“Admiral and the leader of Voltron?” Matt asks and Shiro shakes his head. “You think saving the universe once or twice would hold some water.”

“We might as well be idiot one and idiot two,” he says. “I have no clue how they’ve got everyone else wrapped around their finger.”

“Well,” Matt looks like he’s confounded as well. “What’d I say to you before Kerberos? Overachieving will get you nowhere.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and sends the message out to the team. He’s not going to risk opening verbal communication with them yet,  not that he’s now got a hard no for bringing them back. It’s going to take a few minutes to get to them but Shiro’s sure that at one point today, he’s going to either get a series of angry messages or a series of angry calls on the private comm line.

“You two should take a vacation after this,” Matt suggests as Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose. Rescinding the team back tonight itself may seem too suspicious, but there’s no need for them to go chasing after fool’s gold when absolutely no one thinks it’s useful.

“I’m going to pull them back anyways,” Shiro says quietly, looking around. There’s no one in the vicinity who’d snitch on him but he can never be too cautious about this. “Whatever the Garrison says, however much they want to bend over for the Polluxians, this is a colossal waste of time.”

“I’m with you on that,” Matt nods, scans the cafeteria as well. “I think there’s a very select group of individuals who _do_ think this is a good use of time.”

“I’m going to tell them to come back,” Shiro shrugs. “Keith’s the leader and if he says it’s bad to keep them out there and _they_ say there’s no point in them being out there.”

“You’re going to get in shit for that,” Matt points out and Shiro makes a noncommittal sound.

“It’d be a good time for a vacation,” he says simply.

  


* * *

  


It’s well into the evening by the time Shiro makes it back to their quarters. The team had reacted to the news just as well as he thought they would have, even after he had told them to hold tight. When they get pulled back early, they’re going to get their heads chewed off as much as Shiro and Keith will. The team wants to talk about what the best way to go about it is, and leaves the task of telling Keith to Shiro.

Keith’s nowhere to be found when the doors to their quarters slide open. A half-eaten sandwich sits on the kitchen counter and Kosmo’s sprawled out on the couch, tongue lolling and teeth bared as he snores. Shiro hears the t sound of the shower as he takes off his shoes at the entrance and peels off his uniform jacket.

It’s not a thing he thinks about anymore, not a thing he’s thought about in a while; the sound of running water automatically has Shiro drifting towards their bedroom. He toes off his socks and starts to untuck his shirt as he makes his way. He can hear Keith humming an old song when he approaches the bathroom door and as a brief courtesy, he knocks on the door.

“Almost done using up all our hot water?” he calls out and Keith immediately stops singing.

“You can come in,” Shiro can practically hear the eyeroll in the reply, and he grins to himself as he opens the door. His arm drifts itself towards their bedroom, thunking a door frame before it settles on top of their dresser and powers down.

The enclosing of the shower is barely steamed, not enough to indicate Keith’s been there for a while. Shiro sees the naked blur of Keith behind the glass wave to him and he tugs off his shirt, throwing it on top of Keith’s pile of clothes on the counter. Keith opens the stall door and Shiro steps in, ducking so that he doesn’t immediately get pummeled with the water.

“Hear the news?” Shiro asks in lieu of a greeting, hoping that somehow Keith had found out already. He had thought about sending the missive to Keith but he didn’t want to turn Keith’s datapad into a victim.

Keith’s face goes from neutral to questioning and Shiro presses his lips in a tight line. He steps forward, bringing his head under the shower spray and Keith’s face falls.

“For fuck’s sake,” Keith groans, but there’s not much energy behind it. He runs a hand through his wet hair and slicks it back before sighing like this was what he had been expecting all along. 

“I know,” Shiro hums in sympathy. Keith sighs again and leans past Shiro to reach for the soap on the shelf behind him. Shiro watches him for a moment, fascinated by the lean line and definition of his arms as he stretches past Shiro. “Here, let me.”

“Let you what?” Keith makes a questioning sound, but Shiro plucks the bar of soap out of Keith’s hand and pushes at Keith’s shoulder. Keith obediently turns around and Shiro shifts in closer, shuffling them forward enough that Keith’s not getting a face full of water.

Shiro likes whenever he gets a chance to do this. Often it’s Keith that’s the one insisting he washes down Shiro, that he works out the tough knotted muscles in his back. It’s one of Keith’s favourite ways of taking care of Shiro. But Shiro relishes the opportunity to reciprocate whenever he can. Even though Keith has taken the news relatively well, there’s no missing the obvious rigidity in his shoulders. The week's not been good to Keith, neither has their work; Shiro figures that the least he could do is be the one to make it up to Keith.

Before Shiro can do anything, Keith is already rolling his slick shoulders. Shiro watches as the muscles contract and move under the water and it never fails to get him how even at the end of a long day, even when he looks exhausted, Keith looks mouth-wateringly good.

He runs the Garrison-issued bar along the width of Keith’s shoulders, the fresh smell of clover drifting up as Shiro builds up a light lather. When there’s enough to his satisfaction Shiro sets the soap aside and spans his hand over one of Keith’s shoulder blades. He rubs the bar into the thick one that sits on the crook of Keith's shoulder before running over the smaller, shrapnel-sized scars.

Not wanting to lose himself, Shiro starts to dig his thumb into the meat of Keith’s shoulder. The first touch elicits a soft and rasping groan from Keith. Shiro can feel the hard knots and circles under his fingers and he circles, pressing down hard until he can feel them dissolve. Keith hisses and arches slightly but Shiro runs a soothing hand over the nape of his neck and squeezes gently.

Keith’s shoulders droop, moreso when Shiro makes a pleased sound.

“That’s it,” Shiro murmurs as his fingers skitter across Keith’s skin. Steam slowly rises around them as he drags his hand downwards, reaching the middle of Keith’s back. It’s not as easy to work out the kinks in his back in a vertical position but Shiro kneads his knuckles near Keith’s spine, earning an appreciative moan that reaches him till his toes.

“There you go, baby,” Shiro turns his attention back to Keith’s trapezius. Quietly, he says, “I’m going to pull the team back early.”

Keith merely hums in agreement, and tips his head back. “Good idea. I don’t want to talk about that anymore though.”

“Whatever you want,” Shiro replies almost immediately and continues to keep working on Keith. He feels the stress dissolve under his fingers and doesn’t want to feel it come back, not yet, so he drops the topic.

The space between them is rapidly dissolving and Shiro loses himself staring at Keith’s whipcord lean muscles. He wants to skim his teeth across Keith’s back, leave fresh marks and reminders for Keith. He thinks of the same body pressed in between him and the sheets, thinks of how Keith moves himself against him.

Shiro gives in to the chastest urge he has at the moment. He slides his hand around from Keith’s shoulder to around his neck, pulling him till he’s completely pinned against Shiro’s front. Shiro cups Keith’s jaw and tilts his head towards him so that he can give him a firm, closed-mouth kiss.

“Haven’t seen you all day,” Shiro whispers against Keith’s mouth, raising his hand to card soapy fingers through Keith’s hair. Keith closes eyes at the first hint of pressure to his scalp and sighs into Shiro’s mouth. Shiro parts his lips and Keith mirrors him, opening up for him fast.

“Been avoiding you,” Keith mumbles as Shiro drags blunt nails across his scalp. “You work me up too much.”

Shiro can feel the low vibrations of a purr from Keith against him, and turns Keith’s head again so that he’s got better access to his jaw.

“Mm,” Shiro replies, pressing wet lips to Keith’s cheek. He follows it with one right under his jaw and one on Keith’s shoulder for good measure. “I don’t think I work you up enough.”

He peppers a trail of wet kisses from Keith’s shoulder up to his neck and Keith starts to turn around fully in his arms, tugging him into a slick and eager kiss. The slide of Keith’s body against his own has Shiro’s head spinning and he presses his tongue past the seam of Keith’s mouth. He slides his hand down to grab at Keith’s ass and Keith mirrors him, squeezing as he leans up and lets Shiro in.

They kiss till his head goes light, till Shiro is walking Keith back in the tiny stall and pinning him against wet tiles. He plants his forearm beside Keith’s head, closing in on the heat Keith’s radiating. Shiro always teases Keith about being too easy but the truth is that he’s the one that’s weak to Keith in all sorts of ways. It’s hard not to be, with the way moves his tongue against Shiro’s like he’s barely been tamed.

Shiro gets so wrapped up in it that he doesn’t register that Keith’s trying to say something until a hand reaches up and tugs at his bangs, causing him to finally break the kiss.

“God,” he exhales as Keith looks up at him, as flushed and kiss bitten as he feels. His hair is pushed back, wet from the shower, mouth red and parted as he gently pants. Water drips down his neck and Shiro doesn’t bother fighting whatever urge he gets to chase it with his tongue.

“We-” Keith starts and lets out another soft groan as Shiro buries his face against Keith’s neck, mouthing over where he thinks he’s going to leave a mark. All of Shiro’s intelligence is leaving him fast in favour of pawing at Keith. “You’re cutting it close.”

Shiro blanks for a moment and blinks before he remembers. He can’t help but grin large against Keith’s skin.

“Let’s see if we can cut it closer,” he says and nips at Keith’s neck, worrying a small bruise between his teeth. The taste of the soap he barely lathered on is bitter but it’s worth the way Keith twitches underneath him. Keith likes this kind of attention, hot and demanding, and Shiro is never one to deny Keith.

But this time, Keith’s more firm. He tugs Shiro’s head back again, his own face redder than before.

“This is my game,” Keith says, voice only slightly wavering. Shiro huffs and presses in further against Keith so that there’s truly no space left in between them. He crowds Keith in till Keith has to tip his head back just to look at him.

“Yeah?” Shiro makes sure his voice is low, rough around the edges as if he’s asking Keith to behave. “Act like it then.”

Keith’s growing half-hard against him and it’s through sheer self control that Shiro hasn’t joined him, especially with how tightly wound the week has left him. He gets no reply, just an indiscernible look from Keith, so Shiro takes it as an open invitation and dives in for another kiss. He finds a hand over his mouth almost immediately, and makes a woeful sound.

“Fine,” Keith says with his voice just this side of petulant. “I will.”

Keith pushes off the wall, and walks Shiro forward till they’re both standing under the spray again. Shiro shivers, part from the water that has started to cool down and part from the simmering look that Keith gives him.

“Mpf,” Shiro replies, raising his eyebrows.

“My game,” Keith repeats and Shiro makes another muffled sound before suddenly, the sliding door of the shower is opening and both the pressure of Keith’s hand and the heat of his body is gone.

Shiro blinks, staring at the spot where Keith was. Keith rustles outside with his towel and by the time Shiro’s brain has caught up with the rest of them, Keith’s already left the washroom. Having Keith naked and yielding in front of him one moment and then nothing the next evokes a crushing feeling that has Shiro’s head screaming with frustration at the sudden cut off.

On the outside, he gapes at the water trickling down the bathroom tiles. It’s only when he hears the muted sound of a door shut on the other side of the bathroom, that Shiro starts to come back.

It takes Shiro a good five minutes to get a hold of himself. He rinses off in the shower and makes quick work of scrubbing down his body, eager to step out. He’s not felt an ache this strong in a while and he rubs his skin raw under the cool spray trying to work it out.

By the time he turns the water off, he’s feeling more wired than before. His clothes are gone from the counter once he steps out, probably taken by Keith to get thrown in the laundry. Shiro swears over nothing and wraps the towel he uses to dry himself around his waist.

When he comes out of the bathroom, Keith’s clicking the bedroom door shut. He’s in an oversized shirt that Shiro recognizes as one of his, black boxers peeking out from underneath. His hair is still damp and staining his collar and as soon as he hears Shiro, he turns around. He’s got something behind his back, and Shiro raises an eyebrow.

“What do you have there?” Shiro asks, and Keith shakes his head.

“On the bed,” he says instead, peaking Shiro’s curiosity. Electricity is already crackling through Shiro, too vivid to have been tamped down even now, so he treads towards Keith slowly, curtailing the bed.

“Nope,” Keith says as Shiro approaches him, and Shiro abruptly stops. “Touch me and you lose.”

Ah.

So Keith’s planned something like _that_. With the amount of fervent energy coursing through him, Shiro is sure that this is how he’ll die.

“Making up rules on the fly?” Shiro tries to tease but there’s no hiding the hints of straining in his voice.

“On the bed,” Keith repeats firmly. “Sir.”

“Alright,” Shiro says, part amused and part curious. Hearing Keith address him like that while giving him an order tugs at something deep in Shiro’s gut and he starts walking backwards till his knees hit the back of the bed.

He sits down with force, bouncing on the mattress. Keith follows Shiro with his arm still folded behind his back and stands in front of him. Up close it becomes evident that he’s not fully calmed down from the shower either. Shiro’s mouth quirks upwards and he reaches for the hem of Keith’s shirt with the intention to tug him forward.

Keith twines his fingers through Shiro’s and pries his hand off of him. He takes his other hand out from behind his back, revealing a worn leather belt that neither of them have actually ever worn. Despite not being the one holding it for once, Shiro’s reaction to the belt is Pavlovian.

Shiro gives Keith a questioning look and Keith takes the strap in both hands, stretching the leather out.

“I’m going to tie you to the bed,” Keith says, indistinct tremors in his voice like he’s still trying to find his footing. “I’m not going to do anything else to you, okay?”

Keith waits for him to give his response, face growing softer by the moment. Shiro has a faint idea of where this is going, and knows that he’s a dead man.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Shiro says lightly and Keith says nothing. His expression hardens into something more confident and he presses Shiro’s chest with the flat of his palm. Shiro follows, letting his back hit their large stack of pillows. They’re piled high enough that he’s almost sitting, and he doesn’t have to strain his neck to look at Keith.

Shiro raises his arm and Keith loops the belt around it, hitching it to their bed post. He shifts his legs and his towel starts to fall apart but Keith folds it back neatly on his lap. Once Shiro’s covered and tied to his satisfaction, Keith swings a leg over his waist and brackets him.

“Don’t touch me,” Keith says again and he’s chewing his bottom lip like he hasn’t thought this fully through. Shiro would be surprised if he did; they’re both headstrong and Keith’s probably making this up as he goes. The thought of that stokes the anticipation within Shiro even further.

“I don’t think I can baby,” Shiro murmurs, watching Keith yank up the hem of his shirt with one hand. Keith’s gaze drops down to Shiro’s chest and Shiro shivers again as Keith tugs down his own boxers, enough so that he springs free.

“I’ll make it quick,” Keith says, skimming his hand over Shiro’s chest. He hovers his hand wherever he knows Shiro’s the most sensitive, but barely brushes over him. “Early morning tomorrow.”

The fingers drum an erratic pattern over Shiro’s still-damp skin, and he feels them trail up his neck.

“Thought you weren’t going to do anything to me?” Shiro asks, and Keith’s fingers make it up to his mouth. Keith traces his index finger over Shiro’s lower lip thoughtfully, and Shiro can visibly see the bravado building within him.

For all his confidence though, Keith’s ears are going a fire-engine red.

“I’m not,” Keith assures, and pushes his fingers past the plush of Shiro’s lips. Shiro wraps his mouth around them, sucking them in. For good measure, he reaches what he can of Keith’s palm as well, running the flat of his tongue over calloused skin. Keith withdraws before pushing back in, and Shiro makes sure they’re as spit-slick as he can get them.

Keith pulls them out till the tips and Shiro presses a kiss to them before he angles his head and gives Keith’s palm one last swipe with his tongue. He looks up at Keith through his lashes, and Keith’s breath visibly stutters.

It’s not completely unexpected when Keith’s next move is to take himself in hand. The blush is creeping down his neck now and while Shiro had a vague idea of where this had been going, he still sucks in a sharp breath when he sees Keith squeeze his hand around himself.

“Baby,” Shiro breathes out and Keith ignores him in favour of tugging on himself.

Keith doesn’t make it showy. He strokes himself again, planting his other hand square in the centre of Shiro’s bare chest. On the third one, his hips stutter forward like it’s he’s searching for the proper rhythm. The hand holding up his shirt pushes the cloth up further, revealing more bare skin and the soft trail of dark hair that leads downwards.

They’ve talked about doing something like this before but talking about it is one thing; seeing Keith closes his eyes and twist his wrist is another, and it has Shiro losing his mind. Keith’s gone fully hard in front of him, hand still wrapped around himself, and Shiro finds his own blood’s rapidly going south.

“Tell me what you’re thinking of,” Shiro does his best to keep his voice even and steady. Even when he’s tied against the bedpost, he’s going to try to gain some control of the situation.

“Someone else,” Keith says plainly, and it’s a joke. Shiro knows it’s a joke, a terrible one that the two ping-pong between each other. But it doesn’t stop something from growling within him and twitching his hips, bucking up enough for Keith to get jostled.

Keith doesn’t quiet fall forward, but he drops enough to get close to Shiro.

“Don’t be a brat,” Shiro says and before Keith can quip back, he tugs on his arm.  It’s hard enough to get the bedpost to give a warning creak, and Keith looks up at his arm before he looks down at Shiro.

His eyes are dark, pupils completely blown out. But like he’s talking about the weather, Keith’s voice comes out steadier this time. “I’m thinking of you. What else would I be thinking about?”

Shiro refrains from grunting out a “ _that’s right_ ” but he leans forward to capture Keith in a kiss that’s more him catching Keith’s bottom lip between his teeth and biting.

“No touching,” Keith pulls back, reiterating the rule again. “Just watching. You’re still not allowed to come.”

Shiro digs his blunt nails into the meat of his palm while giving Keith an unaffected look. It means nothing with his previous show of possessiveness but it gets Keith to sit back on Shiro’s lap and take himself back in hand. He holds Shiro’s gaze as he strokes himself, eyes at half-mast as he starts to drip hot onto Shiro.

Heat ripples through Shiro in time with the way Keith jerks himself. He squirms underneath Keith, aching to touch him, to get any sort of contact with him. Keith hums at this but doesn’t relent, instead dropping his shirt back down. Shiro shifts one leg up and instantly Keith’s leaning back against it, putting himself on full display for Shiro as he gets himself off.

Keith speeds up his movements and Shiro watches raptly as his chest rises and falls rapidly. Keith’s panting at the touch, and moans wordlessly when he drags his eyes over Shiro’s torso. Shiro’s itching to touch and this time when the bedpost strains, it’s a lot less intentional.

“Is that how you want me to touch you?” Shiro tilts his head as he watches Keith. It would be so easy to power up his Altean hand, to have it float over. He thinks Keith would sit on it if he asked, would maybe let Shiro watch him get worked open. “You want it rushed like that?”

“I’m just trying to jerk off,” Keith says breathlessly, head tipping back as. “I thought you’d like to watch.”

Shiro hisses, bucks again. His towel starts to slide, and Keith’s free hand comes down on one of his thighs, pinning him to the mattress. Keith’s hand continues to flies over himself, and his brow knit together as he looks down on Shiro.

“Behave,” Keith commands, firm and rough.

And he’s earned it. That much Shiro can tell as Keith arches and rocks his hips into his own hand. The next sound out of his mouth vaguely shapes around Shiro’s name and Shiro’s world tilts off its axis for a moment. He’s ready to break this bed to get his hands on Keith, to press him face down and show _him_ how to behave.

By the way Keith’s burning into him with his gaze, with the way he barely hovers above Shiro, enough for Shiro to feel the heat, Keith’s working up to that too. Shiro’s brain is getting foggier as Keith gets louder on top of him, but it’s getting clearer what Keith wants from him. He loves to press Shiro’s buttons like a game, likes to find new ways to tease him into different directions and reap the punishment as a reward. And through the suffering, Shiro is earning his own right to deliver it to Keith.

True to his word, Keith doesn’t drag it on. Shiro doesn’t think he’d be able to survive if he did. Keith comes hot and wet and messy over Shiro’s chest, mouth dropping open in a silent cry. He keeps working himself till he runs dry and Shiro feels the tremble of Keith’s legs from where they’re wrapped around him.

“Fuck,” Keith spits out, sharp and affected and Shiro’s inclined to agree.

Keith leans down to kiss Shiro, brief and chaste. Shiro closes his eyes and drinks up the touch as he feels the leather strap around his wrist loosen. Keith takes Shiro’s hand in his and rubs a circle with his thumb under the palm.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Keith’s voice is almost as a purr, and Shiro looks blearily at him.

He’s so hard it almost hurts and he’s so tempted to fold. Shiro’s desperate for a touch, for Keith to let him use him even though it’s only been a few days. Keith drives him crazy in all different kinds of ways but this by far has been the most precarious that Shiro’s been left.

Despite it feeling like the air has been punched straight out of his lungs, Shiro’s also filled with pride for Keith. Pride that he’s managed to work Shiro up like this, pride in the way he managed to control the both of them. Keith finally pulls the towel off of Shiro completely and starts to wipe down his front.

Keith’s delicate as he cleans up Shiro and Shiro rotates his wrist, cracking it softly. Keith’s eyes rake over Shiro and he’s contemplative. He presses a flat palm against Shiro’s lower abdomen, fingers dangerously close. There’s silence save for their breathing and Shiro wraps his hand around Keith’s wrist. He tugs Keith’s hand off of him and with a great deal of effort, sits himself up.

Lust is still burning like a wildfire within him, strong enough to make him dizzy. Shiro feels more light headed than he ever has before, and it’s never felt this good to be left hanging before. Idly, he wonders if it’s felt the same for Keith.

He leans and Keith obliges, sharing a chaste kiss with him before Shiro gets up. Even that small touch keeps him dazed and Shiro thinks it’s probably a good idea to cool down under some very frigid water. It seems to be the norm for his this week.

“I’m going to go shower,” Shiro says to the wall behind Keith more than him. Keith gives him a cautious look of satisfaction and it does little to unclench the want in his gut.

 

* * *

 

 

Shiro sleeps fitfully.

In the early morning, the sun pours in through the cracks of blinds that haven’t been fully closed. Shiro groans, throws a hand over his head while Keith continues to snore softly, one leg lazily slung across Shiro’s front. Given that he hadn't been able to sleep well, it's not ideal.

He's not sleepless in a terrible way; he’s still thrumming with hunger for the man beside him who’s slid into their bed like it’s nothing. Shiro’s hyper aware of the way that Keith’s chest rises and falls, of how his lashes dust across his face as he sleeps beside Shiro. This restlessness is not terrible but the exhaustion is, especially when he’s got the wrong side of the bed and then sun’s hitting his face.

Shiro turns over onto his side, angling himself away from the sunlight. He’s feeling too tired to crawl out of bed and close his curtains and their alarm isn’t going off yet, so he doesn’t see the need in bothering himself. Keith shifts closer and Shiro wraps an arm around his waist. Keith mumbles something in his sleep and Shiro thinks he might mumble something too, but he’s too drowsy to be fully aware.

Except even when he’s turned away from the light, he can feel its presence across his bare back. He’s drowsy, on the verge of falling asleep, but his body feels awake under the sun. Shiro tries to ignore it, scrunches his eyes shut but despite his fatigue, just knowing that there’s light coming into the room has him growing tense.

It’s just one more thing to work him up, he guesses.

Groaning, Shiro decides to bite the bullet and get up to close the blinds. As he rolls back over, he tries his best to avoid looking at the alarm on the bedside table. If he doesn’t know the time, then he can pretend he has a chance at getting a little more sleep before his day starts.

He sits on the edge of the bed for a minute, willing himself to open his eyes before he hauls himself upwards. He figures that eventually, by the time he treads over to windows, he’d have mustered up enough energy to open them. Shiro scratches his belly and yawns as he makes his way to the blinds, wincing in the bright light.

It takes him a full five seconds to notice that the light’s not the usual warm and golden colour that comes with the morning sun. It takes him only three seconds after that to realize that the light is getting brighter.

“Shiro?” Keith’s voice comes from behind, and Shiro raises a hand to his face, shielding himself from the light. It’s waking him up rapidly and by the time he reaches the windows, Shiro feels a lot more alert. There’s rustling behind him as Keith sits up in his bed as well, but Shiro barely registers it as he parts the blinds and—

Oh _shit_.  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like as a general disclaimer, this series assumes that Voltron actually ended with season 7 except the battle with the final robeast was WAY more dramatic and also it was piloted by haggar.

There’s not a lot that surprises Shiro anymore, not even in a time of peace and rebuilding. Years of fighting has left him ready to jump at any given time. It’s why his suit’s always within arm’s reach, why him and his partner chose the quarters closest to the hangar where Atlas and the lions are kept. It’s why it doesn’t take long for him to go from blinking from his bedroom at a giant blinding light emerging from the sky to standing at the helm of the Atlas as it hovers a kilometer in the air, bravely staring down their latest challenge.

He has to admit though; this one has thrown him for a loop. In the bedroom, he had seen a massive stripe of white light crossing the sky. By the time he and Keith had thundered down to the hangar, fully suited, the stripe had yawned and something had started to crawl out of it.

There’s something unsettling about a many-legged creature slinking out of the sky, one behemoth eyeball surveying Earth as it crawls out of a smoking portal. There’s not a single ship in sight, not a single piece of technology. Even the metallic ring found around wormholes is nowhere to be found.

For all accounts and purposes, it seems a mammoth cyclops has decided to tear apart their atmosphere and slither out of whatever dimension it came from. With it it’s brought a large humming sound like a terrible radio frequency, one that’s barely muffled by the hull of the Atlas. It’s heard even when they open communication lines with any one of the other ships floating in the air, staring down the eldritch creature.

Shiro thinks he’s allowed to be a little disconcerted.

“The Black Lion is hailing us again,” one of his crew members say and Shiro doesn’t have to tell them to brace themselves before opening the line.

There’s a loud screeching sound and Shiro winces as his ears adjust. He can hear Keith grunt and swear on the other end of the line as his cockpit undoubtedly fills with the cursed noise as well.

 _“I’m gonna get a closer look,”_ Keith says, and Shiro can see Black hovering right out of the peripheral of the Atlas. It makes Shiro nervous because when Keith’s this small, he’s more likely to get smacked out of the air. When Keith’s this small, he sees it as being able to be more agile and sneaky. The latter makes more sense but worry is an old friend.

“Not too close,” Shiro warns. “We can’t pick up a reading on that thing.”

 _“What do you mean?”_ Keith asks, and Shiro clears his throat.

“We’re unable to read anything,” Shiro says. “We can’t tell what it is, where it came from. We can’t even tell what it’s made of.” It just sits there, suspended in the sky, staring down the Atlas with its massive eyeball like the world’s most sinister pinata.

 _“That’s fantastic,”_ Keith says dryly. _“Has anyone checked in with our houseguests?”_

The whining frequency increases and Shiro has to pinch the bridge of his nose before replying. “They’ve been taken to one of the bunkers.”

 _“I bet,_ ” Keith snorts. _“Well, I’m going to go pay our friend a visit_ \- huh.”

Shiro’s about to ask what Keith saw, but it takes a fraction of a second to spot it.

Out of the rift, a second figure emerges. It’s a large robot, a lot like Voltron in black and sleek pinks. It’s bigger than Voltron - almost as big as the Atlas - and has the crest of the Polluxian High Council on its chest.  Electricity crackles and sputters around it as it creeps behind the beast that’s still hovering in the sky.

The screeching noise subsides by a considerable amount.

“It looks like we have help,” Shiro says, and there’s silence on Keith’s end as the robot quietly raises a hand. “Ke- Atlas to Black Lion.”

 _“I have a bad feeling about this,”_ Keith says, and Shiro is hard pressed to disagree. The palm of the robot starts to glow, a bright white to match the light of the rift.

“Open the line to our squadron,” Shiro commands and his communications officer nods. “Everyone, shields up.”

For a moment, nothing more than a murmur ripples through the air. The creature still hangs in the sky, almost curious. The eyeball, Shiro thinks, must be the size of a stadium. It’s disconcerting and Shiro sees it raise one of its limbs directly towards the Atlas. It’s bony like a finger, tendrils of smoke curling up and away from it.

Suddenly, there’s a vacuum of sound and nothing but dead air fills the comms. The humming abruptly stops. Shiro feels his whole body tense as he waits and—

There’s a loud _pop_ and a brilliant flash of white light as something bursts from the Polluxian-branded robot’s hand. It hits the creature right at the back of what constitutes as its head, a ray of _something_ boring into it. The creature doesn’t react, not for the first few moments anyways. Shiro wonders if the other robot did some damage.

Then the creature opens a mouth Shiro did not know it hard, its giant eyeball rolling back as it reveals rows and rows of teeth akin to a lamprey eel. It’s frankly terrifying and Shiro thinks this is a memory that might take some time to drown out. There’s silence for a moment, tense enough that it weighs down like a massive brick.

And then the creature lashes out and _screams_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been a long time since he’s been an honest-to-god dogfight; most of it’s due to the fact that fighting in the Atlas is more like going to the mat than anything. But currently, the Atlas is a click below Shiro, clutching its face as the abhorrently strong beast wraps its fingers-tendrils-limbs around it, metal crunching under its inhuman strength.

It had been clear from the way that the pure sonic force of the scream had cracked the shield Atlas had thrown up that they are way, way out of their depth. Shiro had ordered his crew members off the ship immediately, and had tried to connect with the Atlas, turn it into the force beyond nature that he shared an innate bond with.

The Atlas had powered down instead, fritzing out in vivid blues as the control centre automatically shut down. Shiro had realized belatedly that whatever had got its hold around him was sapping Atlas’ energy fast and he needed to tail it out of there before he made a fool’s sacrifice.

He made it out on one of the fighter jets, a more rudimentary version of what he and Keith had done a test run on. He’s hovering now, watching the creature wrap Atlas in a death embrace as fighter jets surround it like a halo. They’re pummeling the creature with all they’ve got and the creature is unaffected. In its other hand, it’s got the giant robot by the neck. Shiro watches it writhe and twitch and wonders how they’re going to get out of this.

“ _Shiro!_ ” Keith’s yelling brings him back into focus, snaps him out of watching his beloved ship get crunched. _“Shiro are you there? Anyone with eyes on the captain?”_

The frantic sound of Keith’s voice on the comms drags Shiro back to the present, back into action and he flips open his line. “Keith, I’m out. I’m coming up your six.”

Shiro misses having a lion, he thinks as he tips the nose of his jet down. They felt a lot stronger than the flimsy jet he’s carving the air with. The black lion grows closer with each second and—

A long limb of the creature shoots up into the air towards him and he rolls, missing it by the razor’s edge. As he descends, a giant eyeball rolls up to see him and Shiro curses. He pulls up, and feints left, the large finger-tentacle-limb-nightmare following him right before he swings out right.

A blue beam of light fills his peripheral, and the black lion’s trying to burn a line into the creature as it races up to reach Shiro.

 _“What the fuck is this?_ ” Keith barks out as whatever scorched flesh he left behind gets healed over twice as fast as it had appeared.

There’s a loud buzz, and Shiro gets a signal from ground control. He opens it as he dives again, Keith on his tail as they try to evade the creature. Shiro activates the aerial guns but he knows it’ll be no use; this jet doesn’t carry any missiles and if Keith’s lion could barely leave a scorch mark, he might as well be fighting with a nerf gun.

 _“Ground control to Dione_ ,” Iverson’s voice fills the comms, hailing Shiro’s ship. He’s about to reply but another large black mass comes swinging his way just as he opens the comms.

“A little busy,” Shiro grits out, speeding out of the way of the limb just in the nick of time. He trains the guns on it and fires, watching as little bursts of flame pop against the skin of the creature before fizzling into nothing.

 _“We got communication from Voltron_ ,” Iverson says, and Shiro hears Keith snort on his end of the line. _“They say they’ve found what the Polluxians were looking for_.”

“ _Great,_ ” Keith says, strain evident in his voice. He’s currently maneuvering away from Shiro, diving down under. “ _I’m really happy for them_.”

Shiro ducks after Keith, following him as they twist and turn through a forest of swinging limbs and firing jets. Keith’s path becomes clear quickly and Shiro follows till they reach the creature’s still unhinged jaw.

There’s a loud _POP_ in the air as Keith fires into its gaping maw and Shiro watches as an explosion large enough to level a building gets swallowed up by the creature like its candy.

“ _Fan-fucking-tastic,_ ” Keith says and fires another and another and another until the creature is snapping shut its jaw and rolling its frankly terrifying eyeball towards the two of them.

Shiro’s used to strange creatures from distant worlds, is no stranger to nightmares from brutal fights, but he knows this specific thing is going to colour his dreams in the worst way for a while.

It lets the Atlas go, and the battered metal goes crashing into the great sands of the Sonoran desert. Shiro manages to catch a glimpse of it and feels temporary relief at the fact that the Atlas has taken a lot worse than this, but it goes away as soon as he realizes the creature’s now trained on _him_.

“ _Oh this is an ugly sonofabitch_ ,” Keith mutters, and Shiro snorts.

“I think you’re hurting its feelings,” he says, trying to tamp down on the mounting fear as Keith shoots again, directly into the eye of the creature this time. The fire bounces off, weaker than a piece of dust.

 _“Clearly not enough_ ,” Keith says dryly. It’s got enough humour in it for Shiro to know that Keith’s equally terrified of whatever the hell they’re facing down. They split, Shiro zipping left while Keith burns off to his right. The creature swings again and it clips Shiro’s wing this time. He swears loudly as he does a barrel roll, and the creature manages to whack his plane.

“ _Shiro!_ ” Keith shouts over the line but a tendril shoots out and manages to grab Shiro’s jet. Immediately, Keith’s voice cuts off as the jet starts to power down, just as fast as the Atlas did.

It’s a testament to how much bullshit he’s seen in his life that Shiro’s heart doesn’t immediately seize in terror. No montage of his life starts to play through his head as the windshield cracks in a spiderweb pattern and Shiro quickly unbuckles himself from his seat.

He dashes to the end of the plain, popping open the hatch. He smacks the back of his suit till he finds the button he’s looking for, activating the blue glow of his jet pack. There’s a loud _crunch_ from the cockpit and without thinking twice, Shiro jumps out.

It’s not much of a freefall; the jetpack thankfully only takes three seconds to get Shiro airborne and he swings up, too small to be noticed by the alien. He’s nothing but fleck of dirt, watching as his jet gets crumpled like paper and thrown to the ground.

In a blink of an eye the black lion is roaring towards him, mouth open. Shiro can _feel_ Keith’s fury radiating from the lion as they hurtle towards each other, Shiro towards the glowing blue light of its throat. Just as he crash lands into the lion’s mouth, there’s a loud _THUD_ and his world is tilted off its axis.

Black immediately snaps her jaw shut and Shiro rolls, hitting a wall before he manages to gain some stability. He leaps to his feet just as there’s another loud thud and the lion goes careening again. This time his jet pack sputters and he uses it to keep himself stable and hop through the halls of the black lion.

Keith’s name is the first thing Shiro says when he bursts into the cockpit of the lion and Keith doesn’t flinch. Shiro immediately grabs the handle of a door latched shut as Keith rolls them through the air again, narrowly missing the behemoth.

“That thing fighting it before was Polluxian,” Shiro calls out and Keith responds with an “I know!” as he tips Black upwards. Shiro feels the moment the thrusters kick in, bouncing them far enough up into the air to give them a moment of reprieve.

“Christ,” Shiro mutters, watching the thing below them slap around. He can see the Garrison jets following suit, rising into the air along with Keith and Shiro. Somehow, the creature doesn’t follow them with its optical monstrosity of an eye once they start to make a vertical ascent.

It’s odd, almost, that once they’re hovering almost a mile above the creature, they might as well not exist. It’s not good news for the Polluxian robot though because the creature turns its attention to it completely. Someone hails Black and Keith lets it ride out for a few beeps, watching the cyclops below swivel its eyeball around where they had been just moments before.

 _“Hey chief,”_ James Griffin’s face pops up on the screen and he’s got a withered look on his face. He squints and his eyes widen as he sees Shiro. _“Captain. Any ideas on what to do here?”_

“Nothing seems to affect it,” Keith looks down, gets Black to zoom in on the creatures. Griffin scoffs on the other end.

 _“No shit,”_ Griffin replies. _“Who wants to draw the short straw and dive into the belly? I don’t want to be stuck up here forever.”_

“No kamikaze missions,” Shiro cuts in sternly, watching the Polluxian robot try to fire another beam. “Not when it eats blasts like they’re nothing.”

 _“I can’t help but feel that they knew this was coming,”_ Griffin says, voicing out exactly what Shiro’s been thinking for the past five minutes. _“The Polluxians, I mean. That’s their crest on their robot thing right?”_

“Sure is,” Keith replies, and one glance is all Shiro needs to know that Keith’s been thinking the same. Keith’s probably had an inkling long before anyone else had. He’s perceptive that way, even if he doesn’t always know how to verbalize it.

“ _Oh fucking finally,”_ Griffin says, relief monumental in his voice as he cuts off Shiro’s train of thought. _“The cavalry’s here._ ”

A familiar and large purple whorl has formed in the sky, just above Earth’s atmos. This one has a metallic ring around it, on that makes Shiro heave a sigh of relief.

Keith springs into action, rounding the lion and shooting up to meet with the other four of his teammates. Automatically, all four of their faces pop up, Romelle crowding Allura’s screen.

 _“You’ll never guess what we found,”_ Pidge greets and holds up a jar. In it floats a tiny rock, so small the camera almost can’t capture it. But it’s familiar, an unmistakable shade of green, and Keith goes completely rigid at the sight.

 _“We also found something else that was really weird,”_ Lance cuts in. “ _It was for maybe a total of five seconds but we saw something literally burst out of the sky and disappear again.”_

“Did it by any chance look like our friend down there?” Keith asks, and Lance’s eyes widen as he pulls up another screen.

_“I’m not the best with faces, but I think- yeah. Wow. Oh boy.”_

_“We’ll catch up later_ ,” Allura cuts in briskly, though she looks incredibly nervous as well. _“For now, I think it’s a better idea if we fight.”_

“Good call,” Keith says, and turns to Shiro. Without a word, Shiro drops into the seat behind Keith’s and straps in. Instantly the module in front of him springs to life. Keith flashes a smile to Shiro, a lopsided one that Shiro returns before Keith  turns back to the others. “Alright, team. Let’s rumble.”

 

* * *

 

  
The fight is rough.

They form Voltron and make a valiant effort to fight the beast. Keith leads the lions into the fight while Shiro barks out commands to the MFEs, both groups of fighters working in tandem and the chaos works in its own sort of way.

It also doesn’t. The beast is almost a deity in how it fights back in that it doesn’t need to. It absorbs each hit like a giant sponge, giant eyeball roving around. When they form Voltron, the flash and bang definitely catches it attention and it starts to track them again. While it’s not the biggest thing they’ve ever fought, it definitely ranks amongst one of the most unsettling.

They manage to liberate the Polluxian fighter from the clutches of the beast by wrenching apart its fingers. It’s not before they’re grabbed by an errant limb and get smashed against the other robot like they’re dolls being made to kiss. Shiro’s pretty sure they’ve only succeeded in relieving everyone from the creature’s grasp because they accidentally tickled it.

The fight is hopeless till it’s not but it’s what it takes to get to that point grates on Shiro like nothing else. The Polluxians on the ground confirm that the giant robot in the sky with their insignia is in fact one of their best fighters. Voltron in turn confirms that they’ve found what the Polluxians had wanted and when Keith uses Kosmo to get the mineral onto the Polluxian fighter. Voltron then gets the official word to fall back.

To their credit the Polluxians had not been lying about the potency of what Voltron found. Whatever they do with it after it got on their ship enables their fighter to raise its hand and shoot a light so bright and vividly green that Shiro almost has an out of body experience just watching it. The beast opens its rows of teeth to scream again, loud and shrill, the vibration of it sending dust rippling across the desert.

The humming that the creature had brought with it intensifies louder and louder until everyone’s clamping their hands over their ears, waiting for sweet release. That is until the beast starts to finally collapse into itself and starts to free fall from the sky. Voltron and the Polluxian fighter both dive in and manage to catch it, the strain of the smouldering dead weight almost crushing them both.

The MFEs swoop in for support and the Polluxian fighter breaks apart to pull open whatever interdimensional rift the creature had crawled out of. They then help chuck the beast back through it and with a short salute, the robot follows and jumps into the rift as well before the rip blows of existence and the sky returns to a nice rich blue.

By the time they touch down on the ground again, Keith’s wearing an impeccably sour expression on his face. He barely hides it as they unload and Shiro’s glad that all of them are carted almost immediately to the med bay before anyone else can talk to them so that Keith has time to simmer down.

Keith’s definitely not happy about being wrong about the Kuiper belt, but Shiro has a feeling that it goes beyond that. There’s something about the situation that clearly reeks of important information being left out in the early stages, with the way the fighter had sounded like they had expected their ground support to be ready with the payload.

Shiro would not be surprised if someone in the Garrison had conveniently hid something as well. There’s always someone who gets too excited at the prospect of a new discovery and decides to not share details of impending doom with the rest of the class. The favourite excuse is always hiding information in order to not incite panic, even if no one can quite explain why they wouldn’t let the rest of the higher-ups in on the plan.

The reunion with the team is a tired one. As much as they’ve technically run a successful mission, the rest of the team is as exasperated and frustrated as Keith and Shiro are.

“I almost wish we hadn’t found it,” Pidge says from where she’s sprawled at the foot of Keith’s cot. “They’re not going to let us forget this.”

Technically they’re two to a room but everyone’s gathered in Keith and Shiro’s room to complain. Lance is sitting with his head tipped back in one of the visitor arm chairs while Allura and Romelle have commandeered Shiro’s empty bed. Shiro’s pulled up a chair beside the head of Keith’s bed and Hunk leans against the wall near the door. They’re all sore and a little banged up but nothing lasting; they’re just waiting for medical clearing.

“That cyclops thing was coming really close to obliterating us,” Hunk points out and Pidge sniffs. It’s unspoken that some things are just not worth her pride.

“Where’d you guys find it?” Shiro asks before Pidge can voice that out loud. “I thought the Kuiper belt had been cleared repeatedly.”

“It was floating just a few hundred miles outside,” Lance replies. “We increased the radius of our scan each time and in the last one, we got it.”

“That’s also when we saw our big bad monster friend,” Pidge adds. “It crawled out of one hole in the sky and into another,”

“And none of us were surprised when we came back and things had gone to hell,” Romelle chimes in. “Especially with how insistent the Polluxians were being before we left.”

Everyone in the room is more than ready to throw themselves into defending a planet; no one likes being left out in the dark before being tossed into a fight blind.

“They were racing against a clock they didn’t tell us about,” Keith says, and there’s a murmur of agreement around the room. Before he can continue, there’s a sharp rap on the door before a nurse opens it. They barely seem surprised when they open the door to an overcrowded room.

The team immediately drops the topic, but with the shared glint in their eyes, Shiro knows it’s going to be on their minds for a while.

 

* * *

 

 

There ends up being a celebration. It's for the defeat of the literal hell beast that had crawled out of the sky and the hard fight that had been fought. It's also to celebrate the discovery of a new resource with the aid of Voltron, something that has Keith looking irritably at his small flute of perpetually atrocious nunvil.

Shiro knows Keith will never admit it but the entire situation has been a big blow to his carefully-guarded pride. It's not that Keith refuses to acknowledge that he had been wrong— he had been the one to make sure the fighter received what it needed in the middle of the skirmish. He had been the one to bark at everyone to fall back when ordered and let the Polluxians take the glory for frying the beast out of existence.

But Keith had also been acting in his team's best interest with the information he knew at the time and Shiro knew that if they knew the truth from the start, Keith would have worked his team twice as hard to make sure they found what was needed. It's not being wrong that's grating Keith. It's the manner in which Keith was set up, to look obstinate as the others worked tirelessly for a greater good, all while they forgot to tell the Garrison that they had something both immensely powerful and immensely terrifying on their tail.

"Sucks that they bugged you so much," Hunk says for the tenth time. For the tenth time, Keith gives a bodily sigh.

"I kept trying to stop them," Keith grunts. "Clearly I was in the wrong."

There's four of them squared away at a table in a more forgotten area of the hall. They've ditched their seats at the front to commandeer a location that'll attract less attention and less people coming by to congratulate them.

"If I pulled you guys back early, we might have been toast," Keith says as he fiddles with the stem of his glass, staring a hole into the tablecloth. Shiro places a comforting hand on his thigh under the table and squeezes. Keith's shoulders relax a fractional amount at the touch but the victory is short lived.

Shiro's tried to tell Keith otherwise, that they'd have found a way, that they always do, that no one save the Polluxians and one general knew what was actually happening. It’s not something that Keith’s actively listening to.

"If they hadn't turned up on our doorstep in the first place we would have been fine," Hunk says, trying to comfort Keith. "You did what any of us would do."

"We would have nuked that thing to kingdom come eventually," Lance adds in. "It's worked with every other godforsaken thing we've fought in this universe."

Keith snorts, but it doesn't seem to genuinely cheer him up. There's probably not a lot that can, especially after the post battle briefing that held a heavy emphasis on how the Polluxians had saved the day. Just the thought of it makes Shiro drag one long sip out his squat goblet of nunvil.

"They get to be the hero of the day but they're going to bed knowing who really saved them," Shiro says sagely, the drink still burning on his lips. Three flat, unimpressed faces look back at him and Shiro sort of misses the days they'd eat up anything he said with rapt attention, no matter how on-the-fly it was.

"Thanks for the pep talk Captain," Lance says only half sarcastically and Shiro raises his goblet in return. "Hey mullet man, stop looking so down. We all still have your back. We believe in you."

Lance and Hunk both simultaneously plant their hands on Keith's shoulder and give him a look so loving that Shiro can see Keith squirm. They're overplaying it as much as they can and don't stop giving Keith googly eyes till he shakes them off.

"Thanks for your support," Keith says dryly and Hunk ruffles his hair. Lance looks like he wants to do the same but also looks like he knows Keith will detach his hand if he does, so he flashes an awkward thumbs-up instead.

The tension doesn't leave Keith, even as the conversation lapses into something more casual. It's evident in the way he drums his fingers against the table impatiently and swirls his glass around, even as it rapidly drains. A few people come by to congratulate them and Keith manages to keep a diplomatic face throughout it all, but the Polluxians evidently steer clear of their table.

And they're not just avoiding Keith. Allura whisks Shiro away from the table to talk a group of Altean engineers and the Polluxian who had been at the pre-battle meeting looks startled to see Shiro approach the group. From the distance, Shiro can see them making a hasty excuse before dipping, which would amuse Shiro if he wasn't still annoyed. When Shiro looks back at their table, Keith is gone and Lance and Hunk seem to be in the middle of a very animated discussion.

He scans the room but Keith’s nowhere to be found; Keith might have headed back to their quarters early, but it’s not often nowadays that he’ll ditch a function early without convincing Shiro to come with him. Shiro wants to seek him out but the people in the conversation pull him back in, and all he can do is keep an eye out.

Shiro doesn't spot Keith again till midway through the celebrations, when he manages to wrench himself away from the increasingly large group of people that have gathered around where he and Allura are standing. Even now, Allura has a tendency to draw crowds and more often than not, it's easy for Shiro to slip away while everyone else pays attention to her.

Keith's standing against a pillar, looking wildly uncomfortable. It looks like one of the Polluxians have finally deigned to talk to him and by the look on Keith's face, it's not going the best. He's sour enough that he doesn't see Shiro approach the group to rescue him.

"Hello," Shiro greets politely as he steps into the small circle and slides an arm around Keith's shoulder. The diplomat startles and looks less than happy to see Shiro. Shiro guesses it's because he's not made any efforts in hiding the fact that he's poking around and trying to figure out why exactly no one had let them know a giant, nightmarish beast was about to pay them a visit. "How goes your evening? Sorry I wasn't able to catch you earlier."

"Unfortunate," there's a tinge of nervousness that clips the diplomats voice, and Keith feels like solid stone under Shiro's arm. "I was just thanking the black paladin for his assistance and leadership. Who knows what would have happened if his team hadn't found the metumuxite."

"Who knows what would have happened if we knew what was coming to begin with," Shiro gives a frosty smile and watches the diplomat shrink. He hopes he looks dismissive enough as he stares them down and sure enough, it takes one raised eyebrow for them to scurry away. Keith's shoulders slump, and Shiro rounds on him, sliding his hand down to wrap around his waist.

"Hey," Keith still looks sour so Shiro says the first thing he can think of. "Want to dance?”

There’s no official dance floor but enough people have gotten into the liquor that tables in the central dining area have been pushed off to the side to make room for some of the more exuberant attendants. Matt’s in the thick of it, trying to show Romelle how to do the robot and Lance is flailing around like a broken windmill. It’s not the most refined dance floor.

"And look like an idiot again in front of everyone?" Keith snorts, and Shiro frowns. He squeezes his hand from where it's wrapped around Keith's hip but the furrow between Keith's brows does not ease up.

"No one thinks you look like an idiot," Shiro replies, leaning in to peck Keith on the cheek. Keith's mouth is still down turned when he draws back but not as prominently as before.

"You're too sweet on me," Keith says dryly and it's Shiro's turn to let out a short laugh.

"Maybe," Shiro concedes, and thinks for a moment. "You know, this isn't something to beat yourself up over."

"What?" Keith raises an eyebrow. "Being proven wrong on a very large and public scale?"

"Keith—"

"Or is it the fact that despite everything I've ever done, I still need to move mountains to get basic respect on my home planet," Keith shakes his head and the tone of his voice makes Shiro wince. "This will probably put me back to square one."

There's more heat behind Keith's words now, and Shiro tries to rub soothing circles into Keith's back. Unconsciously he draws Keith closer, enough to smell the sharp aftershave Keith's wearing.

"It won't," Shiro says firmly. "I'll make sure of it."

Keith opens his mouth to say something but seems to change his mind. When he clamps it back shut, he's still got a put upon expression on his face that does nothing to hide the fact that he's still upset. Shiro can bet that Keith's not going to go easy on himself about this for a while, nor is he going to let himself forget it.

It's already clear that Keith's well into his own head by now, will be for a while unless someone knocks him out of it. He's shuttering down slowly and Shiro knows that this is something he's going to mope about for a while. Unless Shiro manages to get him out of his head, at least for a little bit.

Keith shifts in his arms and starts to step back, the action setting off a dim light bulb in Shiro's brain. It just takes Keith shooting Shiro a questioning look when he won't let him go for Shiro to decide that more immediate action is required.

"Hey," Shiro says, a half baked plan already starting to form in his head. Keith stops in his tracks, and Shiro pulls him close enough that he can lean in to ask Keith quietly, "Want to call it a night?"

Keith turns his head to look at Shiro and gives him a bemused look.

“You want to head back home?” Keith asks, and Shiro shakes his head. If they head back to their quarters, it'll still be too close to the festivities for comfort. It'll be easy for someone to find them if they want to bug them and the more the night progresses, the stronger Shiro's need to seclude them gets.

"No," Shiro replies, unwrapping his hand from around Keith. He glances around and save for an occasional glance, no one is actively looking at them or looking for them. “Not exactly.”

 

* * *

 

 

The trip into the desert doesn’t take too long.

A lot of people want to stop the two of them to talk and while Shiro likes being social and likes showing off Keith whenever he can, he side steps as many people as possible. His focus has rapidly narrowed down to Keith and making Keith comfortable again and he drags them through the hall and towards the door.

Shiro would take them back to their quarters but he doesn’t feel that’s sequestered away enough. They’re still going to be close enough that if someone was super determined to talk to them, they could come knocking at the door. It’s happened before and no matter how many times they’ve put their foot down, Shiro doesn’t trust they’ll be fully left alone for the night.

So he decides instead to take them out into the desert on Keith’s old hoverbike, tearing through the dirt as they head towards the shack, Kosmo bounding alongside them. By the time they’ve reached, some of the tension’s already bled out from Keith’s shoulders.

Kosmo’s first act is to climb into the sofa and sprawl, mud caked paws and all. It’s not too offensive; the sofa is one of the last things they’ve been meaning to replace in the shack. It’s a great sofa with great memories but Keith’s also expressed a desire to point a vaporizer at it and see what happens.

The rest of the shack has been cleaned up over the years too; it’s got more signs of their life together than of Keith’s life alone now. They’ve managed to fit a new tiny shower stall and a new hot water tank onto the property and Shiro thinks it’s only one more coat of paint away from being able to get redesignated as a cottage.

The sofa already occupied, Keith falls down on an old, reupholstered arm chair. Shiro moves towards the tiny kitchen and wonders what they had last restocked in the shelves.

“Hungry?” Shiro asks and Keith shakes his head. “I didn’t see you eat.”

“I don’t really have an appetite,” Keith says, and Shiro frowns. “I think I maybe just want to crash.”

Keith tips his head back and closes his eyes and Shiro abandons rummaging through the kitchen in favour of going to where Keith’s chair is. He runs a soothing hand over Keith’s forehead and bends down in front of him, brushing his lips gently over Keith’s. He hears Keith hum and feels the softest smile.

The angle is weird and Shiro’s bending down in an odd way but it’s fine because he kisses Keith again and Keith tips his head up into it. It’s sweet and simple and Shiro wants to do nothing more than melt Keith’s worries away.

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asks and Keith just grunts in return.

“Nice to be away from everyone,” Keith says quietly, and Shiro kisses the corner of his mouth. “Nice to be with you.”

Kosmo gives an agreeing boof from the couch and rolls onto his back. He’s a lot lazier when they hole up in the shack, probably due to their lack of proximity to any sort of large scale weaponry.

Shiro feels Keith tug on the front of his jacket and he follows, propping a knee onto the couch in between Keith's legs as he leans down. They kiss again, soft and unassuming and Keith runs his hands down Shiro's sides. Shiro gives a pleased hum and tilts his head so that he can deepen the touch.

“Much better than the party,” Shiro says and immediately kicks himself when he feels Keith slow down to a halt.

“Do you think they’ll think it was rude that we left?” Keith asks, and Shiro blinks for a moment. He’s not really known Keith to care about something like that; it’s probably not what Keith’s actually concerned about.

“Forget about any of that right now,” Shiro replies. “We’ll deal with it later.”

Keith starts to grumble something but it dies out before he forms anything coherent. His gaze drops to the side and Shiro waits patiently, not wanting to cut him off. When he’s greeted with silence, he brings his hand up to cradle the side of Keith’s face.

“Hey,” Shiro says and Keith turns his head towards him. “It’s just me and you right now.”

Keith stares at him for a second, and the hand that’s sitting on Shiro’s hip squeezes. A swathe of emotions make themselves known across Keith’s face, like he can’t quite figure out what to say or do. Shiro can sympathize with having too many things running through one’s head to be able to concentrate on what’s in front but because of that, he’s determined to pull Keith out of his own self-loathing for a bit.

“Feeling optimistic?” Keith finally jokes and it comes out stilted like he’s forcing himself to move on from the topic. Shiro plays along anyways and tries to chase down a kiss. Keith ducks out of the way and manages to nip Shiro’s jaw.

“Maybe a bit,” Shiro concedes and tries to kiss Keith again. Keith dodges that one too and slides his hand down Shiro’s back. The movement’s unsure so Shiro rocks back onto the foot that he had planted in the ground and moves his other knee. There’s a small sense of victory when Keith falls forward like he’s trying to follow and Shiro takes advantage of it, grabbing him by his shoulders and hauling him up.

The next time he presses his lips against Keith, he does it with a lot more heat and intent. It’s so easy to fall into it with Keith no matter what the mood. He slides his arms around Keith’s waist and draws him close, opening his eyes the slightest amount to see the light pink dusting across Keith’s face.

It’s not a far trek from the living room to the small bedroom but Shiro feels the charge start to build between them as he tugs Keith across their home. He’s still got no real plan for them but his need for Keith shoots up like it’s a meter on a high-striker and _this_ is a surefire way for him to get Keith to feel good.

As soon as the door to their bedroom is shut, Shiro’s pushing Keith up against the wall. Shiro’s favourite thing is to do is to show Keith how hot he gets him so he wedges his thigh between Keith’s legs as soon as Keith’s back hits the drywall and starts to paw at Keith.

“Eager?” Keith teases and Shiro forgoes his mouth in order to lay a wet trail of kisses down Keith’s neck. Shiro makes a non-committal sound, distracting Keith enough by sucking in a small bruise that he doesn’t notice Shiro’s hands landing on his hips.

“Nope,” Shiro replies, popping the _p_ at the end as he squeezes Keith and drags him against his thigh. The action clearly takes Keith by surprise in the best way because Keith’s hands immediately smack against his biceps and squeeze.

“You sure?” The playful lilt that’s making itself known in Keith’s voice sounds more genuine. Shiro feels the flex of Keith’s jaw under his lips and he inhales, the smell of sweat and cologne and Keith settling into him like an aphrodisiac. “Because if you are, it’s not going to help you win our game.”

Shiro freezes, and it’s hard not to roll his eyes and smile fondly. He opts instead to take it as a challenge.

“It’s not about me, baby,” Shiro murmurs into Keith’s ear and keeps his touch feather-light. Keith’s hips try to twitch into it but Shiro makes sure that any relief is right out of each. “I just want to get you out of your head.”

He emphasizes his point by hitching his leg up further and pulling Keith up his thigh, enough that his feet are lifted off the ground. Whatever response Keith had, dies on his lips. Shiro smiles against Keith’s neck as he hears a quiet moan instead.

Shiro draws back to take another kiss from him, cupping his jaw with his free hand. He angles Keith the way he wants, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip but not following through when Keith parts his mouth for him. He laughs when he feels Keith try to chase him, try to tempt him by pushing his tongue in and Shiro almost gives in to the slick weight of it. Almost.

He breaks apart the kiss and shifts his hand so that it cards through Keith’s hair. Keith tries to move in for another kiss and Shiro tightens his fingers, only letting Keith far enough that their lips brush together when Shiro speaks.

“I’m not going to come,” he says, so low and husky that it surprises even him. “I don’t need to. All I’m trying to do is fuck you right.”

Keith makes a noise and tries to chase him again, straining against Shiro’s grip. Shiro allows him one brief, cursory peck but nothing beyond that; the mix of frustration and want is clear on Keith’s face. Shiro kisses the corner of Keith’s mouth, his jaw, the crook of his neck, but pointedly avoids his lips even as Keith squirms.

“Are you going to let me take care of you?” Shiro asks, conversational tone belying the fact that he feels like he’s stepping into a fire. He always does when he starts something like this with Keith and he welcomes it, lets the heat simmer and grow till it fully takes over.

Keith nods as much as he’s allowed to but Shiro squeezes till he can’t at all. “Use your words.”

Shiro gets a dirty look in return but Keith licks his lips and smirks when he sees the way Shiro’s eyes immediately drop to it. There’s no doubt that Keith’s going to run his mouth as much as he can but Shiro’s ready to meet him, ready to shut him up and leave him satiated.

“Fine,” Keith replies, wriggling his lower half. It’s unashamed and self serving and Shiro kneads Keith’s lower back with his Altean hand, encouraging him on. “Get me- _ah_ , get me out of my head then.” A pause, and then, “If you’re feeling confident about it.”

Shiro doesn’t even bother thinking of a retort; he smiles pleasantly at Keith who gives him a delinquent look in return. He suddenly steps back, letting Keith slide off. Keith looks momentarily startled at the sudden loss, feet hitting the ground with a soft thud, but Shiro doesn’t take time to drink it in.

Instead he’s grabbing Keith’s shoulder, spinning him around and pushing him up against the wall before he can say anything. Shiro plants his hand square in the centre of Keith’s shoulder blades and pins him down, nudging Keith’s ankles before he kicks his legs apart.

Shiro slides his Altean arm down Keith’s front to cup him and stroke him gently over the fabric of his dress-pants. Keith’s more than half hard, has been since he had rutted against Shiro’s thigh, and Shiro palms him till he’s all the way there.

“I’m feeling _very_ confident about it,” Shiro’s voice is rough. He’s started to slip into his favourite headspace with Keith and he’s doing it fast.  “Hands on the wall.”

“What, you’re going to stop and frisk me?” Keith looks over his shoulder as he plants a hand on each side of his head. Even though his face looks flushed and his fingers are curling against the drywall, Keith still gives Shiro a shit-eating grin as he flutters his eyelashes. “Oh I’ve been so _bad_ sir, please don’t— _fuck_ , Shiro, wh-”

“I think you need to come down first,” Shiro says, leaning in and planting a wet kiss on Keith’s cheek. “You’ve got too much energy right now.”

Shiro can’t say he had any elaborate plans; just a vague idea that maybe he had wanted to take this slower. And he thinks he still will. He just needs to slow Keith down too.

Shiro tilts his head as he cups Keith with his Altean arm, stroking him as the hand softly vibrates. It’s a shadow of what he had done to him in the meeting room all those days back but it’s got the same effect. Keith tries to twist but Shiro shifts his hand from Keith’s shoulders to the nape of his neck and drapes himself along Keith’s back. Shiro makes sure he’s a solid wall and that Keith’s got nowhere to move except for forward into Shiro’s hand.

Keith grunts and tries to shift under him and Shiro feels Keith use some of his genuine strength to lift off the wall. Shiro pauses, waits to see if Keith’s going to use their safe word, but Keith uses the space as leverage to give a rough snap of his hips into Shiro’s hand. Shiro pushes the heel of his hand further, letting the buzz grow and Keith’s shoulders slump.

“You’re going to kill me,” Keith half-moans and Shiro strokes the base of his neck with his thumb before letting go. Shiro plants his hand besides Keith’s head and lets Keith feel the entirety of his presence. Keith’s got more mobility and it’s easier to kiss him proper this way, easier to lick his own lips before biting Keith’s.

“No,” Shiro murmurs. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Shiro continues to stroke Keith, letting the vibrations slowly ratchet up to make sure Keith’s got no breathing room. Keith continues to curse under his breath and tries to chase after Shiro’s mouth. Shiro makes sure  he stays just out of reach, only conceding the briefest peck on the lips when he feels like it. Keith tries to grind back against Shiro’s lap in retaliation, and he manages to make just enough contact to send sparks through Shiro that reach his toes. He must falter because Keith pounces on it and rocks back again in earnest.

“Trying to one-up me?” Shiro asks, amused as he looks between them. He’s not going to lie; anything Keith does will have an effect on him, and this is no different. But Shiro’s long mastered the art of sounding unaffected, even when his body feels like electricity is crackling through it.

“Just seeing how far - _fuck_ \- how far you can go,” Keith says, the strain making itself known in his voice. “Congratulations on meeting the bare minimum.”

“Mm,” Shiro replies. He pushes his own hips forward, effectively stopping Keith’s and trapping him between Shiro’s body and Shiro’s hand. Keith sputters and Shiro rolls his hips again, letting Keith feel how he’s getting half-hard. “I see.”

Shiro normally likes stringing Keith out and making him wait. It’d be sweet revenge for the way Keith’s been making him wait, to tease Keith till he’s begging for Shiro to give him anything. But Keith somehow still looking smug while Shiro pulls him to an edge awakens something more in Shiro that makes him want to pull Keith apart in a different way.

He ruts against Keith again and licks the palm of his own human hand. He snakes it around to Keith’s front and makes quick work of pushing up Keith’s jacket and untucking his shirt. The buckle of Keith’s belt is a little trickier but Shiro manages to undo it and slides his hand past the waistband of Keith’s pants and boxers.

The first touch of bare skin on skin has Keith gasping and Shiro grinning. He’s hot and heavy in Shiro’s hand, a lot more wound up than his snarky tone had let on. Shiro lowers his Altean arm and lets it slide further in between Keith’s legs as he starts to jerk Keith off with his human hand.

It proves to be too much for Keith a lot faster than Shiro had anticipated. Keith comes in Shiro’s palm, wet and warm, and Shiro lets out a short _hah_. Keith swears and curls his hand into a fist, hitting the wall once as he tries to ride out his end in Shiro’s hand. Shiro lets him go and runs his hand up Keith’s front, purposefully catching his hand on Keith’s shirt to spread as much mess as possible.

“Thought you’d last longer,” Shiro says and Keith scoffs weakly.

“At least I can finish,” he replies and this time, Shiro finally lets him turn around when he tries to move.

“Are you going to be a smartass all evening?” Shiro asks and up close, Keith looks too dazed to say anything. He tries to catch Shiro’s eye but he can’t quite focus so Shiro kisses him again, using more tongue than anything. Keith brings his arms up and wraps them around Shiro’s shoulders, leaning up into it.

Shiro lets Keith be hungry for a few moments and gives him what he wants, sucking on his bottom lip and letting Keith take lead. Keith’s spent but not done and Shiro reaches down to grab at his ass before he speaks. Keith’s going to give him shit later for wiping the mess all over his only pair of formal pants but Shiro knows that secretly, neither of them could care less.

“You didn’t answer me,” Shiro says in between the kiss and Keith snorts.

“We’ll see,” Keith replies. “Depends on what you do. Or don’t do.”

Keith’s clearly still determined to see Shiro lose their bet, even now. At any rate, he doesn’t look like he wants to propel himself off the nearest cliff like he had an hour ago so Shiro’s going to go along with it. Shiro pushes off the wall and before Keith can react, he seizes him by the collar of his jacket and starts to pull. Keith stumbles, his undone pants sliding down his thighs as he follows Shiro towards their bed.

Shiro spins him around and lets Keith get as far as pressing his lips to the underside of Shiro’s jaw before he gives him another order.

“Down,” Shiro says and when Keith takes a fraction of a second too long to listen to him, Shiro pushes down on his shoulders.

Keith’s knees buckle and he lands on the mattress with a bounce. Shiro grabs Keith’s jaw, turning it as he looms over him. He traces Keith’s spit-slick bottom lip with his index finger and Keith parts his mouth, nipping the tip with his teeth. Keith looks like he’s on the verge of saying another snarky thing so Shiro shoves his finger into Keith’s mouth unceremoniously. Keith latches onto it immediately, swirling his tongue around it and Shiro feels pleased to his core.

“You want to see how good my control is?” Shiro asks, tugging Keith’s chin forward and Keith nods furiously. Shiro’s Altean arm gets to work on his own belt buckle and Keith grasps Shiro’s thighs, tugging him forward. Keith drops Shiro’s finger from his mouth and spreads his legs as much as he can with his pants riding down his thighs, to make space for Shiro to stand in between them.

Shiro pushes the dark hair falling across Keith’s forehead as Keith leans forward and mouths Shiro over his pants and not-so-gently pushes the Altean hand away. Keith makes quick work of Shiro’s pants, pushing them down with his briefs enough to pull him out.

Keith looks up at him and licks his lips just as he takes Shiro in hand and for all his bravado, Shiro knows that if he gives in even the slightest amount, the show’s going to end a lot quicker than he wants. To ground himself, he tugs on Keith’s hair, pulling him back before he can dive in.

“Is this how you’re going to cheer me up?” Keith asks. “By manhandling me and then making me blow you?”

“Do you like it?” Shiro raises an eyebrow and Keith grins back, small and lopsided in a way that only Shiro gets to see.

Instead of answering, Keith leans forward to give Shiro a kitten lick on the tip. It’s teasing and barely there but enough for Shiro to have to count backwards from ten to stop himself from twitching. Keith flicks his tongue again, lightly swirls with half as much intention as he did with Shiro’s finger.

Keith looks up at Shiro through his eyelashes as he plays with him and Shiro gives Keith as much of a disinterested look as possible. It’s tempting to hold Keith still and push into the warmth of his mouth; just the mental image of Keith rushing to relax his throat and moaning loud enough that Shiro can feel the vibrations has his head spinning.

But Shiro bites the inside of his cheek, lets the dull pain keep him in check as he strokes Keith’s hair like he’s the world’s most patient man. When Keith sees that Shiro’s not going to concede, he closes his eyes and starts to take him into his mouth in earnest. Shiro’s hand slides from his hair to his cheek and Keith tilts his head away from the touch, just enough for Shiro to feel the bulge in his cheek before Keith draws back.

This time Keith lets himself sink further down, taking more of Shiro into his mouth. It’s slow and languid and he hollows his cheeks, making small noises as he bobs his head. He tries to pull Shiro further into his mouth like he can’t get enough but Shiro roots his feet to the ground.

It’s then that Shiro thinks it clicks for Keith; Shiro’s steadfast in not giving in, not for this. Not even when he’s hitting the back of Keith’s throat and the nails digging into his thighs are just on this side of too sharp. Every time Keith tries to take him to the hilt, Shiro pulls on his hair just enough to stop him.  It takes every fibre of his being not to thrust into Keith’s mouth but the smug, smug feeling that comes with seeing Keith try his best to break him keeps Shiro going.

“Look at you,” he coos down at Keith, running his thumb over Keith’s brow. There’s still a furrow between them but it’s different, it’s less out of anger than it is determination. “You’re trying so hard, I feel like I should reward you.”

Keith’s eyes snap open and he looks up at Shiro, sharp and with intent. Shiro takes it as an opportunity to pull Keith off of him completely, watching a string of spit stretch between them. He uses his Altean arm to pry Keith’s fingers off of him and grip himself and when Keith tries to dive back in, he swats Keith’s hands away.

“Ah-ah,” Shiro scolds gently and Keith drops his hands. It’s woefully bereft without the wet heat of Keith’s mouth around him but Shiro’s going to die his private, personal death later. “I have different plans for you.”

For now, he’s going to start to shove Keith’s jacket off of him. It gets thrown on the floor beside the bed and Keith doesn’t wait for Shiro before he starts tugging at the hem of the white shirt he had been wearing underneath. As soon as he’s shirtless, he’s grabbing the front of Shiro’s jacket insistently.

Shiro acquises only momentarily, tasting himself on Keith’s lips as he starts to tug at Keith’s pants. Keith lifts his legs to help him and Shiro manages to get pull everything off, leaving Keith completely bare. Shiro feels the pull as Keith starts to lean back onto the mattress, trying to take Shiro with him. Shiro only goes so far before he’s pushing down on Keith’s chest with his Altean hand.

Keith looks confused for a second as Shiro straightens up again, enough so that he doesn’t catch Shiro’s hand slipping under his back. Shiro takes a step back towards their bedside drawer and Keith tries to sit up, but Shiro keeps him pinned. As Shiro tears his eyes away from the sight of Keith lying naked on their bed, he slides his Altean hand under Keith’s back.

He hears a surprised yelp followed by a short laugh as the hand flips Keith over and grabs him by the hip, tugging him just enough off the bed that his knees hit the rug underneath. Shiro finds what he’s looking for and hums happily as he turns back to see Keith bent over their bed, pawing at the sheets. Keith’s growing hard again even though Shiro’s barely touched him, and Shiro can’t help but feel extremely pleased with himself.

Wordlessly, he makes his way over to Keith and kneels down on his knees behind him, setting down the bottle of lube beside him. Keith’s blush has managed to crawl down to his shoulders and Shiro knows Keith’s got the push-pull want and embarrassment of being watched so intently by Shiro.

Shiro smooths his human hand over the curve of Keith’s ass, leaning forward to kiss along the ridge of his spine. He can still smell the traces of Keith’s soap as trails his mouth down Keith’s back and kneads the muscles under his palm. His Altean hand shifts out of the way, settling on Keith’s hip.

“Shit—” Keith inhales sharply as Shiro starts to suck a mark right at the base of Keith’s spine. “Shiro, come on.”

“Come on what?” Shiro asks sweetly, sliding his hand into the crease of Keith’s leg and hip and rubbing a circle. “Why are you in such a rush?”

Keith answers with something that sounds more like a whine than words and Shiro grins. He likes Keith mouthing off to him, especially when it leads to him eventually melting under Shiro’s hands like this. Shiro lets go of him to uncap the lube, but keeps working on leaving tiny marks along Keith’s back. Keith looks over his shoulder to give Shiro an impatient look, and rolls his eyes when Shiro winks in return.

It’s one of Shiro’s favourite looks, when he first presses a finger in and Keith’s expression softens as he sucks in a deep breath, trying to relax.

“There we go,” Shiro near-purrs, slowly moving as Keith adjusts. “God, I can’t wait to be in you.”

“You’re not allowed— ah, not allowed to come— _Shiro_ ,” Shiro wastes no time in crooking his finger the way Keith needs just as Keith tries to speak. Keith’s words devolve into incoherence as he tries to rock back, and it doesn’t take long for Shiro to work a second one in.

“I know,” Shiro replies easily. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t take you. It’s been a long time for you too, hasn’t it?”

Keith’s hips twitch forward and Shiro tightens his grip as soon as he realizes Keith’s trying to find some relief against the mattress. Keith’s head drops between his shoulders and he flattens out his arms on the mattress, completely sinking his upper half in.

“Unless you don’t want it like that,” Shiro continues as he moves his fingers steadily. “Since you’re so concerned about me. Though, I thought you’d jump at the opportunity to make me lose.”

Keith says nothing to that, just shoves his face further into the sheets and groans. Shiro can see him drip onto the rug below them as he works him open on three fingers, holding nothing back as he presses his fingers hard enough to have Keith muffling his name into the mattress. Shiro leans forward to kiss the base of his spine again, amd murmurs against his skin.

“I only want to get you off,” Keith’s undoubtedly fully hard now, and Shiro can feel him trying to fight the hold of the Altean hand so that he can rut forward. “Remind you how good it feels when you let me take care of you.”

Keith finally raises his head at that, enough for Shiro to hear him speak.

“That’s not something I’d ever forget,” Keith replies and it stirs something so low and hot in Shiro that he feels light-headed. Keith drops his head again and arches and this time Shiro lets him rock between his hand and the mattress, lets him try and rub himself off against the bed. His Altean arm remains on Keith’s hip, acting as enough of a buffer that when Keith rocks forward, the hand goes with him and he can’t quite fully meet the edge of the mattress.

Keith makes a frustrated noise and a tell-tale shiver runs through his back, one that Shiro doesn’t want him to follow through quite yet. Carefully, he withdraws his fingers fully and reaches under Keith to squeeze him and cut him off. There’s not a lot of restraint left in Shiro, especially when Keith shoots him a look through his haze of lust.

“Get on the bed,” Shiro says, his voice sounding a lot more hoarse than he intends. Keith scrambles to get on and Shiro shucks his own jacket. It’s only when his shirt’s off and the cool air’s hitting his skin that Shiro feels a little calmer and a little more in control of himself again.

Keith props himself up on his hands and knees and gives Shiro an appreciative once-over. Shiro keeps his pants on; the slight discomfort  it’ll bring will be enough to ground him. It’s also no secret that Keith likes the bite of zipper against bare skin. Shiro picks up the bottle of lube and empties some onto his hand before tossing it onto the bed, and takes himself in hand as he stalks towards Keith.

He knows he’s coming dangerously close to an edge that he shouldn’t be, feels it as he starts to slick himself up. Doing this was rash, Shiro knows, but it’s worth the way that Keith looks right now, pliant and stretched out on their bed. Shiro watches the whipcord-lean muscles of Keith’s back shift and tense as Shiro climbs onto their bed.

And maybe it would be alright if Shiro lost. Maybe this is something that he can give Keith, after the kind of defeat Keith had to eat over the past couple of days. Shiro has the choice of stretching their game on till Keith’s the one folding like he had originally planned; he also has the choice of giving Keith a well-earned victory.

As he lines himself up and starts to ease in, Shiro realizes that it’s not going to be as much of a choice as he thinks it is.

“Fuck,” Keith hisses and Shiro’s hard pressed to disagree. He moves slowly in an effort to not get ahead of himself but he’s also missed this too much, feeling Keith in a way this intimate.

“‘S Okay?” Shiro asks, pulling back a fraction before working himself in further, and Keith nods furiously. He reaches for Keith and starts to stroke him through the discomfort, gently murmuring praise about how well Keith’s taking him. Shiro closes his eyes and focuses on going languid and not getting over-enthusiastic as he sinks into the heat.  He rolls his hips harder so that he moves Keith forward in his hand, and hears Keith say his name.

“Shiro-” Keith chokes out, gasps as Shiro twists and tugs at him while slowly working up his pace. “Shiro, I’m close.”

“Already?” Shiro asks, nearly incredulous and— he can feel Keith leaking all over his palm as he continues to touch him. Keith’s back arches and Shiro draws back in awe, watching for an instant before he thrusts in fast, knocking the air out of Keith’s lungs.

He repeats it, feels Keith contract around him and Keith slams a hand down on the sheets. Shiro jerks him off faster and Keith keens loudly, rocking back to meet Shiro.

“Baby come on,” Shiro manages to rumble out. Normally, he likes taking more time, but the sight of Keith shuddering under him when they’ve barely started eggs Shiro on to really give it to Keith. “Don’t hold back, come on, be good for me, be good—”

Keith cries out and for the second time that night, comes in Shiro’s hand. Shiro slows down, tries to give Keith a moment to catch his breath but Keith twists to glare at Shiro, even as his chest is heaving.

“Don’t stop,” Keith grits out, trying to reach back for Shiro. It’s not quite clear what Keith’s trying to accomplish but Shiro pays it no mind as he pulls out of Keith fully. Before Keith can protest, he turns him onto his back and pushes him further up the bed. Shiro takes one of the pillows and scoops Keith’s lower back into his palm while he shoves the pillow under him.

“Are you sure you can keep going?” Shiro asks, voice filled with genuine concern even as he reaches for their forgotten bottle of lube. He’s still slicked up since they’ve barely started but Keith’s going to be oversensitive and by the over-bright look in Keith’s eyes, he’s also not planning letting them end here.

“Are you sure _you_ can keep going?” Keith quips back, hooking a leg around Shiro’s waist. “You felt like you were getting pretty close.”

“Cocky,” Shiro mutters, grabbing Keith’s other leg. He rests Keith’s calf on his shoulder and leans forward, just enough that he can grip their headboard. It’s part in support and part a reminder to not completely lose himself as he seats himself again in Keith. For all his attitude, Keith’s body is trembling and his blush has creeped bright and vivid down his chest.

It strokes Shiro’s ego, seeing Keith worked up like this, feeling Keith dig his fingers into the meat of Shiro’s shoulder as Shiro presses in. Keith’s already loose around him so Shiro sets himself to work, using the headboard as leverage to thrust deeper into Keith.

“I don’t believe- ah, I don’t believe you,” Keith says and Shiro thinks it’s supposed to taunt him but Keith’s voice sounds wrecked.

“Don’t believe me?” Shiro asks. He keeps his pace slow, taking his time and letting Keith feel every inch as he moves in him. His cool tone is belied by the fact that he’s got a death grip on the headboard. “Don’t believe what?”

“That you’re not going to come,” Keith manages and Keith— is not wrong. Shiro’s not playing with any type of fire; he’s walking right into it, standing in the burning core and hoping for the best. Keith is too addictive, in the way he moves, in the way he sprawls across the bed, the way he clenches his sharp jaw when Shiro angles himself different by a degree.

“Doesn’t matter because you’re going to do it for me one more time,” Shiro says. “You’re going to come one more time for me, okay baby?”

“I don’t think I can,” Keith half-laughs and Shiro leans down to nose at the crook of Keith’s jaw. He bites the skin there, hard enough to have Keith yelp before he’s running his tongue over the mark and soothing it.

“I’m not asking you,” Shiro says low and quiet into Keith’s ear.  “I’m telling you.”

With that, Shiro pulls out and pauses, looking down at Keith. He looks wrecked like this, dark hair fanning out on the bed under him, a light sheen of sweat covering his body. Keith’s eyes glimmer in the dull bedroom light, unfocused as Shiro holds them both. Just his presence is demanding and makes Shiro want to pour all his effort into making him feel good.

Keith swears just as Shiro snaps into him and the sound that comes out of his mouth is inhuman. Shiro wastes no time in setting a punishing pace, the care with which he had been moving before quickly falling away. His Altean hand holds Keith’s thigh apart with a grip hard enough to leave one of those giant bruises Keith loves and Keith barely notices. He drags his nails down Shiro’s back and yelps as Shiro fucks into him hard and fast, the bed shaking underneath them.

There’s a tight coiling sensation deep in Shiro’s gut that’s making itself known very fast and Shiro’s determined to not let it take over, not until he’s got Keith to tap into that alien stamina of his and come again. Shiro feels a bead of sweat form at his temple and he thrusts even harder, white knuckling the headboard.

A litany of curses and praise spills from Keith’s mouth, like he can’t help it, like he can’t help but melt further into the bed as Shiro gives him all he’s got. Shiro loves Keith like no other but he also burns for him like no other and doesn’t hesitate to brand Keith with the heat he feels at any given moment.

There’s a cracking sound that Shiro almost misses, too mesmerized by Keith. He feels something rough under his palm and Shiro would ignore the pain, insignificant in the wake of the tidal wave on the verge of hitting him, if it wasn’t for the second crack being loud enough to get his attention.

He’s gripped the headboard so hard in his determination that it’s fractured from the sheer strength. Keith’s noticed too because he tips his head backwards to look and goes wide-eyed at the large crack running through the dark wood.

“Holy fuck,” Keith breathes, sounding incredibly impressed. He looks back at Shiro, eyes wild, and clasps the back of Shiro’s neck. He yanks him down into another messy kiss and Shiro quickly forgets about the fact that he’s broken the headboard as he continues to move in Keith.

He wants more of Keith, wants to get even closer, so Shiro slides his hand underneath Keith’s back and scoops him up, sitting back on his haunches as he hauls Keith up into his lap in one smooth move. He gives Keith no time to register what’s happening before he starts to flex and thrust up into Keith again.

He bites Keith’s neck again, bruising him right where it meets his shoulder. Keith’s not going to be able to hide it in training and it’s not going to go away for a few days; something more primal in Shiro wishes he could make it more prominent and more permanent.

Keith drapes over him and lets Shiro move his body the way he wants. Shiro wraps his arm fully around Keith and pulls him flush against his own body. He’s insurmountably pleased when he feels Keith’s hard between them and makes sure he rewards Keith with the way that he moves.

“Maybe I will come,” Shiro manages to grunt out. He’s drawn taut like a bow on the inside and the fact that he’s been able to get this far is something he didn’t even expect. “God— _fuck_ , you’re so hot, I don’t think I can help it.”

And Shiro’s nothing if not there to please Keith. Keith needs a win badly, a genuine one and Shiro is ready to give it up on a silver platter. This will barely register as a hit to his pride; Shiro’s not ashamed in how badly he wants Keith at any given point of time.

He feels like an animal with how hard he fucks up into Keith, the wooden slats of the bedframe protesting underneath. It’s a miracle they haven’t completely broken this bed yet, not from now or from before, but Shiro catches sight of the splintered headboard and feels immensely self satisfied. Keith moans Shiro’s name into his ear and Shiro’s attention immediately slips back.

“Come for me,” Shiro commands, voice hoarse but firm. “Come for me one more time baby, I can feel you. Touch yourself, I wanna see you get yourself off.”

“No,” Keith blurts out immediately and holds onto Shiro tighter. “No touching, I— fuck this is so much but I—“

Keith stumbles over his words but Shiro gets the gist, especially with how much Keith’s leaking between them.  Normally Keith never hesitates to jerk himself off immediately as the order comes, but this time he seems to be coming close and coming untouched. It rarely ever happens but when it does, Shiro savours it like a hard fought win.

“Hold on to me,” Shiro manages to say evenly. And even though Keith’s as close as he can possibly be. Keith somehow manages to meld his body closer. Shiro decides to fully consume him, giving him all his strength through the way he thrusts up. The bed strains under them but blood is thundering too loud through Shiro's ears for him to hear anything.

The world narrows down to the two of them and Shiro cannot remember himself outside of this moment. Keith's moaning and yelping and babbling nonsense and Shiro's not even sure what sounds he's making himself because they don't sound human. The coil in his gut tightens like a screw as he fucks up into Keith with all that he's got, barely registering the burn in his thighs.

Keith clings onto him but isn't good for much else. Shiro feels sharp teeth skim across corded shoulder muscle and tilts Keith's hips enough that in the next up stroke, Keith's teeth are sinking into his skin. Keith latches in like that, sharp pain acting in counterpoint to the way that Shiro just takes and takes and takes.

"Just let go Keith," Shiro says - _demands_ -, mouthing along Keith's neck. He tastes the salt of the sweat and hears Keith choke out a sob instead of replying. His body shakes around Shiro and Shiro snaps his hips up with more purpose than ever before till Keith’s muffling a yell into Shiro’s shoulder.

Keith’s nails grow sharper, drawing blood from where he’s clutching onto Shiro while he meets his end. The sting of it does nothing to deter Shiro and he knows he’s lost full control now. Keith is steadily growing more limp in Shiro’s arms and Shiro tips them over so that Keith’s on his back again. He sits back on his haunches and holds Keith’s thighs around him as he thrusts frenetically, his gut quickly unravelling after spending so many days getting teased.

Shiro comes and it hits him like a freight truck; he thinks he says Keith’s name but it gets lost in the haze that drops over him, heavy as he rides out his end in Keith. Tremors run through his thighs as his movements get weaker and his breath comes out ragged, Keith’s name still falling from his lips repeatedly.

He lets go of Keith completely and falls forward onto his elbows, bracketing Keith between his arms. Shiro feels like his whole body is trembling, feels the hot air between them while they pant.

Shiro looks down at Keith, feeling light-headed and slightly awestruck. Keith’s head is tilted off to the side as he tries to catch his breath and Shiro can see the smattering of bruises he’s left along Keith’s neck. Keith looks wrecked and immeasurably handsome like this and when he turns to look up at Shiro, it almost guts him.

Each time he takes Keith to bed, Shiro feels like a lucky man. But it’s been a while since they’ve done it _this_ intensely, and he knows it’s going to be a while till his heartbeat’s less feverish. The come-down always leaves him feeling dazed, like he can’t quite believe his luck.

Keith closes his eyes and Shiro makes to move off of him but he feels Keith grab him by the back of the neck and pull him down. Shiro follows till he’s flattened out as much as he can on Keith. Keith lets out a guttural groan and Shiro runs a hand through his hair, drawing soft circles into the scalp. He presses a wet kiss to Keith’s cheek and tastes salt there as well.

“I don’t want to move,” Keith groans from underneath him, his voice hoarse and cracking. “I don’t think I can move.”

“I’ll carry you everywhere,” Shiro says and feels Keith rumble with a low chuckle underneath him. “You want to take a shower?”

“Later,” Keith turns his head so that he can nuzzle into the crook of Shiro’s neck. They’re hot and they’re sticky and it’s not the most comfortable with Shiro still in him but if Keith wants to hold on to him like they’re trying to fuse, Shiro’s not going to say no.

Their lips are both swollen from being bitten and Keith's making over-sensitive sounds everytime Shiro shifts just a little but he holds on tight. They lay there for a few seconds, the physical heat between them building like a furnace as they try to come down from their high.

It finally gets to be too much so Keith relents and lets Shiro slide out, grimacing at the discomfort and mess. Shiro smoothes a kiss over Keith's forehead, trailing his lips down the bridge of Keith's nose and kissing both his cheeks. It's exceedingly tender, enough for Keith to pout and grumble about this and that till Shiro's sliding their mouths together again.

Keith has never bothered refining his technique but Shiro loves it, loves the sharp punch of fangs on his bottom lip and the way Keith pushes forward with too much tongue. Keith can act clean if he wants to but he doesn't, and Shiro doesn't want him to either. Making out like this while they try to come down always tells him that there's going to be more soon, no matter how tired they are in the moment.

It's a rookie move, but sometimes kissing Keith is  so good that Shiro forgets to breathe.

"Thank you," Keith says when they pull apart to catch their breath. His hand slides forward so that he can loop his whole arm around Shiro's neck and draw him close into an embrace. Shiro sinks his weight into it, eliciting a pleased hum from Keith as Keith kisses the corner of his jaw, right under his ear.

"For what?" Shiro's body feels heavy and languid and he thinks he doesn't want to move out of this bed, ever. It might be bad form and contrary to every workaholic bone in his body but Shiro weighs the possibility of taking an impromptu vacation and spending it tangled up with Keith.

"For standing by me," Keith replies. "Even when it turned out I was wrong."

"You're not—" Shiro starts, but realizes it's futile to go down this route. It'd undo all the work he put into getting Keith relaxed too; Keith would undoubtedly start mulling again and fall into a hole. So he switches tracks instead, giving Keith an earnest look. "Baby, I'm always going to stand by you no matter what. You don't have to thank me for something that's a given."

"I— thank you," Keith must be self aware or exhausted or both because he doesn't push it. He clings onto Shiro instead and buries himself against his collarbone.

And maybe he will convince Keith to take that impromptu vacation with him. They've been Earth-bound for too long, and it might be making them both stir-crazy. They never operate at anything below full-throttle and Shiro thinks a vacation will do them both good in slowing them down.

It'll be good to get Keith's mind off things too. Keith's smart enough to know that even the best leaders make mistakes but a small part of him still self-flagellates on instinct. Shiro knows this because he's the same way, but it's all the more of an excuse to whisk them away somewhere far for a few days.

Keith mumbles something but Shiro feels the vibrations of it more than he hears it.

“What’s that?” He asks and Keith tilts away so that Shiro can hear him.

“I said you lost,” Keith says, words slurring together a little. “Couldn’t even hold yourself back for a week.”

Shiro blinks before it registers in his sex-stupid brain, and he gives a sheepish grin. The part of him that’s never fully able to let go of his pride might be moping but a majority of him is crowing at the fact that he was able to make Keith feel this way. Conceding to Keith like this, giving him a win and making him feel better is more than good enough for Shiro.

“Guess I couldn’t,” Shiro replies easily, licks his lips as he looks at Keith. “My fault for thinking I could."

There's honesty behind that because Shiro’s not sure how he thought he'd ever be able to over the past few days. The times that he did seem like freak accidents.

“I honestly thought you’d be able to,” Keith admits, and Shiro raises his eyebrows. “Now I have to think about what my victory prize should be.”

“The fact that I love you should be your prize,” Shiro says solemnly and Keith shoves at his face, making noise about how he’s got to claim something real. Shiro tries to not smile too goofily as Keith gives him an exasperated look and fails and that gets Keith to pull him down and press their mouths together in a clumsy but undemanding kiss.

Eventually both of them will get tired and Keith won’t have to needle Shiro into getting up and taking care of the mess; taking care of Keith till they both pass out from exhaustion is one of Shiro's favourite parts of sleeping with him. No matter how much Keith protests, Shiro thinks he’ll shove them both under the spray of the shower for at least a few seconds before they crash for the night.

For now, he’s more than content to let Keith gloat in between them making out in bed miles away from anyone that wants to bother them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for your patience with this guys!!! Also I apologize for any exceptionally bad fanfic science, for some reason i felt that writing an action scene was a perfect lead up to them entering the bone zone
> 
> come hang out with me on my blogue [@phaltu](http://phaltu.tumblr.com) which i still use despite tunglr dying and my [tweeter](http://twitter.com/tagteamme) where I don't shut up


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